


Paradise Lost (& Found)

by JJK



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel
Genre: (eventually, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers, Anal Sex, Beach Camping, Beach Holidays, Beach Sex, Becca's wedding, Day At The Beach, Dolphins, Eventual kissing, Goodbyes, Happy Ending, I promise!), I sort of explain why, Jilted, Love Confessions, M/M, Mildly explicit sex, Mutual Pining, Only One Bed, Outdoor Sex, Panic Attacks, Past Steve/Peggy, Seriously very slow burn, Sharing a Bed, Skinny Dipping, Slow Burn, So much kissing, Soft Epilogue, Some angst, Stargazing, Switching, and some mild ptsd though he has mostly has a handle on it now, basically wish I was on holiday whilst writing this, beach drinking and conversations, beach wedding, boat trips, bucky has some war wounds, bucky was a soldier, crying and comfort, mainly fluff, meet at a tropical resort au, sea caves, solo honeymoon, steve is rich, steve's still big and strong, tags updated as i go
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-21
Updated: 2020-06-20
Packaged: 2020-10-25 09:21:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 46
Words: 121,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20721881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JJK/pseuds/JJK
Summary: Meeting at a tropical resort AU where Steve is there on a 2-week honeymoon package after his fiancee left him at the altar, and Bucky is there for his sister’s destination wedding but doesn’t have a room because there was a mix up with the reservations in the system.





	1. Steve

**Author's Note:**

> [@ VenusMonstrosa](https://twitter.com/VenusMonstrosa) had this wonderful idea on twitter and let me run with it, thank you!
> 
> (Turns out I can't write short one-shots, so this will be multichaptered. Rating TBD (depends on when I get there) will probably be either mature or explicit, we'll see. I'll post in short chapters so you get more content, quicker. and yes I don't really need another WIP, but here we are. I hope you enjoy!)

It seemed like a good idea at the time. Two weeks away in a tropical paradise to clear his head and soothe the ache in his chest. Two weeks of seclusion with an excuse not to answer calls from worried friends or angry relatives. Well, _her_ angry relatives. But Steve had forgotten just how much of a romantic sap he’d been, and how many extras and upgrades he’d added to the trip. It started with the two pre-ordered glasses of champagne on the flight, and was compounded by the ‘Mr & Mrs Rogers’ sign held up by the chauffeur at arrivals. By the time Steve was ready to check-in at the luxury resort – into the honeymoon suite, no less – he was already fed up with the whole thing. 

“And where is Mrs Rogers?” the reception clerk asked, trying to be helpful and polite, not realising he was pouring salt into Steve’s wounds. “Will she be joining you later?”

“Uh.” Steve cleared his throat and tried to school his face into a neutral expression. “No. She won’t. Change of plans.”

The clerk just smiled sweetly. “Will you still be wanting the couple’s massage tomorrow afternoon?”

“What? Oh, er. No thank you.”

“It’s non-refundable.”

Wasn’t everything?

“Then, yeah.” What the hell. He could probably do with a massage. He always carried his stress in his shoulders. 

“What about the sunset cruise, and the –?“

“If it’s non-refundable, keep it. Cancel everything else.” Steve didn’t mean to sound so short, but the trip was playing on his frayed nerves. Why had he ever thought this would be a good idea?

“Okay, sir. Can I take a copy of your passport for our security? Then I’ll get you all checked in.”

The clerk disappeared with Steve’s passport and he was left, drumming his fingers on the counter top and wondering where everything in his life had gone so wrong. 

The lobby was large and airy, all white washed walls, polished marble floors, and leafy green plants. A sunken bar led out onto a paved patio that looked right out onto the ocean. It was mid-afternoon and the sky was a deep blue. Palm trees wafted gently in a breeze that carried a salty tang and sent warm air sweeping round the room. The place _smelt_ warm, not the sticky, sweaty smell of New York in the summer, or the nose-clogging humidity of DC, but something fresh and comforting, like stepping inside the orangeries of the country estate’s they’d visited in England once. These two weeks were just going to be a constant reminder of her, weren’t they? 

Steve tried to push Peggy from his mind and let his attention wander, quickly latching onto a loud, rather fraught conversation at the other end of the reception desk. He didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but they weren’t exactly being subtle.

“What do you mean the room’s not available?” a tall brunette woman in a pretty sundress with sunglasses perched on top of her curly hair demanded; in a tone quite at odds with her flowery, casual appearance. 

“I’m sorry. There appears to have been an error on the system. The reservation was not properly recorded.” Their receptionist apologised. 

“But we booked this months ago!”

“It’s okay,” her brother tried to calm her down. They had to be siblings, they looked identical; same soft waves in their dark brown hair, same bright blue eyes, same slope to their nose, same dimple in their chin. Steve dropped his eyes to the floor quickly before he could be caught staring. “I’ll bunk with someone else.”

“Who?” The woman scoffed. “You’re sure as heck not bunking with us on our wedding night, and we’ve filled the other rooms to capacity already.” She let out a long suffering sigh and her shoulders slumped as her anger gave way to resigned disappointment. “First the bags go missing, now this. What else is going to go wrong? Coming here was supposed to make things _easier_.”

“I know, Becs.” Her brother gave her hand a squeeze. “There’s really no other rooms available?” He asked the receptionist. 

“I’m sorry. We’re fully booked.”

“Then I’ll sleep by the pool.” He laughed. “It’s the tropics, won’t get cold.”

“Sir, we cannot condone that -”

“Yeah, well, then you shouldn’t have double booked my room,” he smirked. He said it so charmingly that Steve found himself smiling along, in spite of everything. 

“Bucky, you can’t.”

“I know, I know. There must be another hotel on the island –“

“Here you are, sir.” 

Steve was pulled from the conversation with a snap as he was handed back his passport.

“Is there…a problem with their room?” He couldn’t help but ask, gesturing to the conversation down the desk.

The clerk spared them a fleeting glance before returning to Steve with a cool smile. “Oh. Yes. Our system seems to have double booked a few rooms recently. Don’t worry, your booking has not been affected. None of the pre-paid ones were.” The clerk tried to assure Steve, missing his point entirely. “Here’s your room key. Room 701, top floor. Wifi code is inside. Breakfast is served daily from 7-10:30 in the dining hall, or you can arrange to have it delivered directly to your room –“

“Are there any other hotels on the island?” Steve was still worried about the brother-sister pair. He couldn’t help it; too empathetic, as he’d often been criticised, with a hero complex to boot. 

“Not on the island, no. But there are plenty of hotels on the mainland.” The clerk tried to draw Steve’s attention back to the packet of information being handed over. “Here’s your confirmation for the massage tomorrow. The cabana is on the beach front, just through those trees, there,” he gestured beyond the patio. “Towels are available for use poolside and on the beach. We ask that only the dark blue towels are taken down to the beach. The ferry departs to the mainland twice a day, but we can always arrange a water taxi if required. If you need any help at all during your stay, please just ask.”

“Thank you.” Steve stepped away from the desk, clutching his room key and staring at the massage voucher. Two happy, Hollywood-pretty people were stretched out on massage beds, each attended by a smiling masseuse in a crisp white uniform. Behind them white drapes fluttered in the breeze and the sun sparkled on the waves. The couple were holding hands between the beds. For some reason that was the final straw.

The last thing Steve wanted to be doing was lying on a beach whilst someone rubbed lotion into his back and asked him where his wife was. He wanted to be back in his apartment, head buried under his duvet, watching a game on TV, eating take-out and doodling into a notebook until he felt like facing up to people again. He should never have come here. If it hadn’t been for the horrendous cancellation policy, Steve would never have even considered it. He gripped the handle of his suitcase and strode across the lobby, not towards the bank of elevators, but to the brother and sister now huddled by the front door, clearly trying to make other arrangements.

“Here.” He said, quite brisk and abrupt, but honestly he was just proud of himself for not actively crying. “Have my room. I don’t need it. I’m cancelling my trip.” He said by way of explanation. “It’s all paid up. Non-refundable. So. Use it.” He pressed the key card into the woman’s hands, unable to meet the eyes of her brother who was gawping at him with a look Steve couldn’t decipher. 

“We can’t –“ she faltered and looked at the card. “_The_ _honeymoon suite_,” she gasped under her breath and shared a look with her brother that clearly said, ‘can we really accept this?’. 

“Please, just take it.” Steve tried to give her a smile but it felt more like a grimace. 

“Thank you! I –“ 

Steve cut her off with a curt nod, extending one to her brother, before sweeping past them and out into the bright afternoon sun. He heard a squeal of delight behind him and couldn’t help but smile. At least someone was happy. 


	2. Bucky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky let his attention wander over to the blonde stranger. He was, without a doubt, the most attractive man Bucky had ever laid eyes on.

It was meant to be the trip of a lifetime. Becca’s dream wedding. After everything she’d been through lately, it was the least she deserved. The three of them (that was, Bucky, Becca and her fiancee, Robert) were heading out a few days ahead of the rest of the wedding party to make the final preparations. Robert had practically been part of their family since high school, this was just making things official, and Bucky was ‘unofficial’ best-man and man-of-honour to both of them. He was looking forward to a few days of sun with the pair of them; a last hurrah before they actually grew up and settled down like married people did. But things had started going wrong right from the off. They’d got stuck on the subway on their way to the airport and just barely cleared check-in, only to find themselves squished into a crowded plane sitting behind a teething infant who didn’t stop crying throughout the entire flight. Their bags, including Becca’s wedding dress, had been misplaced somewhere in the airport, and now this. How many more things had to go wrong before they caught a break?

Bucky was only half joking when he offered to sleep by the pool, but he knew it wasn’t really an option. That was the problem with choosing such a secluded and exclusive resort; that this was literally the only hotel on the island.

“We’ll figure something out,” he tried to reassure her with a smile. The glare he got in return told him she was far from reassured, but Bucky’s optimism wasn’t deterred. They were in a hotel, full of wedding guests. He was probably going to end up hooking up with someone anyway, did he really need his own room? Take, for instance, the very attractive blonde man checking in across the lobby. He’d caught the same ferry they had, standing in the bow with the wind in his hair and a tortured expression on his face. Bucky had been dying to strike up a conversation with him, but brotherly duties came first and Bucky had been preoccupied assuring Becca that her dress would turn up before the day of the wedding. Apparently telling her that it hardly mattered, that Robert loved her enough that he’d still marry her in a swim suit, _hadn’t _helped matters. Duly noted, Bucky had thought to himself, don’t make light of wedding issues.

They stepped away from the desk and as Becca phoned Robert for an update on their bags, Bucky let his attention wander over to the blonde stranger. He was, without a doubt, the most attractive man Bucky had ever laid eyes on. Tall and muscular, but in a very non-threatening way; wearing navy slacks and a white shirt so well fitted that it looked like he was modelling them for GQ. His watch looked like it cost more than Bucky earned in a month, as did the neat silver suitcase stopped by his feet. Honestly, it was hard not to stare.

“No luck.” Becca sighed, pocketing her phone. “The bags were definitely on the plane, so they’re in the airport somewhere. Just, god-knows-where.”

“They’ll turn up.” Bucky replied, distracted, because the tall blonde was suddenly walking right towards them. And oh, god, he was walking towards them with _purpose_.

“Here.” The tall blonde thrust a keycard and a bunch of papers in Becca’s direction. “Have my room. I don’t need it. I’m cancelling my trip.”

_No, don’t go_, wailed a small voice in the back of Bucky’s mind.

“It’s all paid up. Non-refundable. So. Use it.” He kept his eyes downcast as Bucky peered unabashedly at him. Up close it looked like he’d been crying.

Becca stumbled over her response, “We can’t –” shooting a look at Bucky, _can we?_

Bucky shrugged. One thing he’d learned early on in life, was that no one was too good for handouts or favours.

“The _honeymoon suite_.”

So this was the bugger who’d booked it out before them and made Becca mope for a week; not that they’d have ever been able to afford it anyway (“But I’d have liked the option!”). Bucky glanced down to the fingers gripped around the handle of the silver suitcase; no ring. Christ, no wonder he’d been crying.

“Please, just take it.” The poor man grimaced at them.

Becca finally relented and they guy fled. Bucky watched him go, feeling his own heart crack just a little. Who could ever dream of breaking that man’s heart?

“The honeymoon suite!” Becca gasped under her breath again. “Bucky!” she gave a squeal. “The _honeymoon. Suite!”_

“I know!” he grinned at her, trying not to care where hot-sad-blonde-man was going.

“Okay, well this is clearly going to be mine and Rob’s room. You can have our old one. And now you don’t need to sleep by the pool. Phew. I knew this trip couldn’t be a _complete_ disaster.” Utter delight shone from her face, Bucky could only smile back.

It was the break they’d been waiting for, that solved their most pressing problem, so why did Bucky feel like he’d lost something important?

=

Becca kept mumbling ‘honeymoon suite, honeymoon _suite_’ under her breath as they rode the elevator to the top floor, and unlocked the door to one of only two rooms that occupied the space.

To say the room was extravagant was an understatement. For one thing, it was bigger than his entire apartment back home. Bucky shuffled across the threshold and peered into chain of rooms linked by large open archways. It had an entire separate living area to the bedroom, a dining room – who need a dining room in a hotel bedroom? - and two bathrooms. Two. Bucky walked around the place shaking his head. The overindulgence of it all was outrageous. He opened a set of French windows and stepped out onto a wide terrace that looked directly over the ocean. The resort complex sprawled below them; an infinity pool on a raised terrace; palm tree grove leading down to a white sandy beach; secluded cove with turquoise waters that sparkled under the sunlight. The brochure hadn’t been lying when it said the resort offered a slice of paradise.

Stepping back into the room, Bucky found Becca sprawled face up on the super-kingsize bed looking for all the world like she’d jumped onto it.

“I can’t believe you’re gonna stay here,” he shook his head; knowing full well how much this suite cost and wondering what the hell kind of person could afford it.

“Me neither!” Becca moved her arms snow-angel style on the bed. “It’s bliss.”

“You’re gonna be spoilt, who would ever wanna go home after staying somewhere like this?”

“Ugh. I know.” She sat up, leaning back on her elbows. “Who d’you think that man was? We’ve got to thank him.”

Bucky plucked a card from between the bucket of champagne and vase of roses sitting on the dresser. “Probably Mr Rogers.”

_Dear Mr & Mrs Rogers, Welcome to Juniper Bay Resort. On behalf of the entire staff we are delighted to congratulate you on your honeymoon! We wish you a pleasant and comfortable stay in our hotel._

Bucky didn’t even pretend that his heart didn’t sink a little at the sight of the word ‘Mrs’. He flicked the card at Becca.

“I’m gonna go find my room then I’ll probably head down to the pool for a bit.”

“How? This isn’t the sort of place you can skinny dip, Bucky.”

He swung round to show her his carry-on rucksack. “I always pack a spare pair of trunks, just in case.”

“Course you do.” She rolled her eyes.

“Gotta be prepared.” He grinned back. “Rob say what time he was heading back from the airport?”

“Last ferry today is at 6 so he’ll be on that, with or without the bags.” She slumped back down into the pillows.

“Hey, they’ll turn up.”

“Yeah.” She sounded lethargic. The exhaustion of travelling and the stress of the day finally catching up with her. “Did you see the robes in the bathroom? They’re so fluffy. I could always just get married in one of those.”

Bucky laughed and gave her a gentle pat on her ankle. “It’ll all be alright.” He assured her. This time it seemed to work.

He left her drifting to sleep on the enormous bed and caught the elevator down a few floors to his own room. He was expecting it to feel small and stuffy after the grandiose honeymoon suite, but it was still larger than any hotel room he’d ever stayed in, with everything you’d expect from an ultra-fancy hotel: kingsize bed; 42inch tv on the wall; stone tiled bathroom with a walk-in waterfall shower; neat little desk that had never once been used; a sofa and arm chair framing a coffee table by the French windows. It was done up in soft blues, sharp whites, and flashes of gold. There was an abstract painting above the bed that reminded him Greek mythology, though he couldn’t work out why, and the lights had about a million different ‘dimmed’ and ‘mood lighting’ settings. He was pleased to find the French windows opened out onto a small balcony, poking out from the side of the hotel and looking out of the lush vegetation that covered the island. If he leant out over the railing he could see both soft rolling hills to his left, and the ocean dancing prettily to his right.

It was a beautiful room, in a beautiful place. Shame he didn’t have anyone to share it with.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (I couldn't find a canon / fanon name for Becca's husband, and I liked the sound of Robert & Rebecca :)) things will start moving properly in the next chapter, I promise!


	3. Bucky

Bucky had been intending to spend the afternoon pool side, but after testing the feel of the bed, he too found himself succumbing to travel-weary exhaustion. He woke with a start, face down in the pillows, shirt rucked up round his hips and inelegant drool slipping from the corner of his mouth. Through the windows Bucky could see the sky was beginning to darken, and a frenzied glance at his phone told him it was almost 7pm. He’d slept for three hours. Holy shit, what a waste of a day.

Becca wasn’t answering her phone, so, after tidying up his appearance in the bathroom mirror, rinsing out his mouth and chewing on a soft mint, he decided to head down to the bar. Dusk fell rapidly and the view beyond the patio was bathed in a deep blue, tinged with the fading orange glow of the sinking sun. Bucky was headed for the beach bar when he spotted a familiar blonde head sitting with his back to the sunset; nursing a beer at the bar around the corner from reception. Bucky quickly changed course. 

“You’re still here.”

The man looked up from his beer with a crease in his brow. This time it was obvious he’d been crying; his eyes were red raw and puffy. Was it weird that Bucky wanted to hug him? Probably a little weird.

The man cleared his throat and dragged a hand down over his mouth and jaw. “Uh. Yeah. Turns out the earliest flight I can catch back is tomorrow morning.”

“So your plan is to stay here drinking all night?”

“24 hour bar, so.” The man shrugged and took another draught from his beer bottle. Bucky tried hard not to stare at his jawline, but gosh, what a masterpiece. He was half a moment away from offering to give the man his room back or suggest they _share_ – before he remembered the ‘Mrs’, or rather the recent lack of one, and thought better of it.

He settled himself onto the bar stool beside the man instead, and caught the attention of the barman. “Two whiskey sours, please.” He ordered for both of them with uncharacteristic nerves fluttering in his chest.

The blonde man put down his beer bottle and gave Bucky a strange look.

“Well, you’re either highly allergic to hops, in which case you need to stop drinking beer. Or you’ve been crying, in which case you also need to stop drinking beer, and move on to something stronger.” Bucky said with a grin; steeling himself for the man’s response.

The man dipped his head and Bucky was delighted to see a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Actually,” he called to the barman. “Make mine a whiskey neat. No ice, just a splash of spring water.”

“Atta boy,” Bucky grinned at him, giving his bicep a slight nudge with his elbow. “I’m Bucky, by the way.”

“Steve.” The man returned.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“About what?” Steve’s voice sounded groggy. He’d _definitely_ been crying.

“I don’t think single men often book out honeymoon suites for themselves, let alone cancel last minute.” Bucky prompted, gently. “What happened?”

Steve looked away and shook his head. “She called it off. Right at the last second. After the guests had all taken their seats.”

“Oh god, man. I’m so sorry.” Bucky’s hand twitched with the desire to reach out and give Steve’s hand a squeeze. Luckily Steve moved his hand to accept his whisky from the bar tender before Bucky could do anything brash and impulsive.

“At least she had the decency to go out and tell everyone. Not sure I could have faced doing that.” Steve practically drained his drink in one before twirling the glass around on it’s rim, swilling the remainder around the sides. “I feel so foolish. I should have seen it coming, we’d been rocky for months – years even. I’m not sure we were ever completely right for each other. But it…blindsided me. I thought we had an unspoken agreement that we’d try and make things work, y’know?”

Bucky hummed in what he hoped was a soothing tone.

“She was the first woman I ever loved. Certainly the first woman who ever loved me.” He wrinkled his nose in a fairly adorable sniff. “Sorry, I’m a bit of a mess.”

“That’s understandable.” Oh god, poor man. First loves were always the hardest to get over. And being left at the alter? It didn’t bear thinking about. But if there was one thing Bucky had learned from his therapy sessions over the years, it was that talking about it did actually help. “How did you meet?” Bucky asked, when Steve fell silent.

“College.” Steve hesitated, like he wasn’t sure he wanted to open those floodgates, but he sucked in a deep breath and braced himself with a smile. “We both majored in international relations at Princeton. I was the skinny nerd half the height of the rest of my class, and she was the posh English girl with an accent straight out of Buckingham palace. Neither of us really fit in. We both had something to prove.”

Bucky glanced sideways at Steve. Skinny? Short? Who the hell was he kidding? But Bucky knew how it felt to be different from the rest of your classmates. Knew the kind of bonds you made with people that accepted you for who you were; they struck deep.

“She’s a real firecracker. She was the brightest person in our class, without question, but she’s stubborn and a little…aggressive with her opinions. She doesn’t try to make herself amenable. I love that about her. She didn’t care that I was two-bit hack from Brooklyn who’d won my way there on a scholarship I didn’t really feel like I deserved. She seemed to think I was worth something when no one else did.”

Bucky listened quietly, not wanting to break the spell. The guy seemed relieved to be getting this all off his chest and Bucky was happy to listen.

“’Course that was before I discovered rowing. Miracle sport,” he gave Bucky a sly smile and finished off the rest of his whisky, signally the bar tender over for a refill. Bucky suddenly remembered that his own drink was sitting untouched, he quickly sipped at it to catch up. “I bulked up throughout the year, and over the summer I finally had the growth spurt I’d been waiting for since middle school. Then suddenly everyone wanted to be my best friend.”

“Funny how that works.” Bucky returned the smile.

“But Peggy,” Steve sighed, and whatever thought he’d been about to voice trailed off unsaid. “After we graduated, we got an apartment together in DC. She went on to become a political analyst for the CIA, and when I realised politics and policy making wasn’t actually for me, she loaned me the money I needed to start my own design company. She stuck with me through the lean years where I found my footing, and she didn’t care that it took me five years to even start paying her back. It seemed natural that we’d get married someday. It was the logical progression. I didn’t even question it. Maybe I should have done. Maybe I’d have seen this coming sooner if I had.”

“Hey, it’s not all on you.” This time Bucky did reach out to give Steve’s hand a squeeze. To his immense surprise, and relief, Steve squeezed back. “C’mon,” Bucky pulled his hand free and stood up. Steve glanced up, the pretty crease was back between his eyebrows. He pouted when he was confused, it was utterly adorable. “You’ve got one night on a tropical island, there’s no point spending it indoors. There’s a bar on the beach. Let’s go get drunk there instead.” Bucky nodded towards the patio which was by now fully dark. A line of flaming tiki torches highlighted the route down to the beach.

“Why are you doing this?”

The question stumped Bucky for a moment. Why _was_ he doing this? It wasn’t about a hook up anymore, it hadn’t been since he’d found about the whole jilted thing. But even if that was off the table, Bucky still wanted to spend time with this man. He still wanted to get to know him. “Because I want to.” He answered honestly, giving a small shrug. “I enjoy your company.”

Steve snorted in disbelief. “Can’t believe I’m that great company at the moment.”

“And because I don’t think you want be alone right now.” Bucky added, hoping he wasn’t overstepping the mark.

“Thank you.” Steve said. His smile wobbled for a moment, but he stood up, fishing a couple of notes out of his wallet and leaving them under his glass to pay for the drinks. Bucky didn’t argue. He’d get the next round. And the one after that.

“Don’t thank me yet,” he smirked, grabbing Steve by the arm and leading him down towards the beach. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> don't worry, a hook up is still definitely on the table ;)


	4. Steve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve hated feeling vulnerable like that. Hated letting people known he had a weak side. Perhaps it was better to let a stranger see him through the worst of it; a stranger Steve was certain never to see again after that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all of your comments! <3 the response to this fic has been wonderful :D I'm so glad you're all liking it so far!

Steve let himself be dragged towards the beach, not entirely sure what he was hoping to achieve from this endeavour. Accepting drinks off attractive men in hotel bars wasn’t exactly Steve’s MO, but the guy was right; Steve really didn’t want to be alone.

He’d texted Sam to tell him he’d be coming back early, but that was it. Steve was reluctant to open up and reveal just how devastated he felt. The thing was, Steve hoped that in a few weeks - once he got over the shock of the whole thing - he’d be back to normal, and he’d rather not be constantly reminded of how he felt right now. Sam was great, Steve thought the world of him, which is exactly why Steve couldn’t talk to him about this. Steve knew if he opened up, Sam would swoop in, coddle him, and majorly dent Steve’s pride. Steve hated feeling vulnerable like that. Hated letting people known he had a weak side. Perhaps it was better to let a stranger see him through the worst of it; a stranger Steve was certain never to see again after that night.

Bucky kicked his shoes off as soon as they reached the sand and rolled up the bottom of his jeans. There was a mischievous glint in his eyes that was so utterly endearing as his face shone in the light of the tiki lamps. Steve wondered again about what he was getting himself into, but he followed suit; kicking off his shoes and plodding barefoot through the sand, half sinking with each step, as the footpath opened out onto the beach front. A wooden lean-to served as the bar, with tables and chairs set out in the sand. A fire pit glowed a crackled further down the beach surrounded by cushioned benches and hammocks. Candles glowed in lanterns and more tiki torches gave everything a soft muted glow whilst plunging everything outside of their reach into a deep darkness. Plenty of other people were clustered at the tables and milling around in the sand, but the beach felt far from crowded. The soft rush of the waves surging and retreating up the sand acted like a white noise machine, masking conversations and providing a gentle roar that Steve could focus on rather than the noise inside his mind.

Bucky led the way right up to the bar and propped himself against it, hip coked as he scoured the chalk board menu. The barman finished up mixing two enormous drinks served inside hollowed out pineapples, adding cocktail umbrellas and handing them to a pair of giggling girls, before wiping his hands on his apron and turning to Bucky.

“What’ll you have?”

“One of those pineapple things, please,” Bucky grinned.

“And for you, sir?”

Steve glanced at Bucky who was waiting on him eagerly. “Oh, go on then. A pineapple thing too, please.” What the hell, he was on holiday, wasn’t he?

Bucky’s grin widened and Steve felt an odd sort of thrum deep in his chest. He fished his walled from his back pocket, but Bucky stayed his hand.

“I’ve got these.”

“You sure?”

“Dude, you got the last round. Plus you paid for the room. These are on me.”

Steve shrugged and pocketed his wallet.

“That’ll be twenty-four dollars.” The bartender informed them, popping two umbrellas into their drinks with a flourish.

“How much?” Bucky’s eyes popped. “Fuck-me-sideways. Maybe I will let you get the next round,” he laughed at Steve.

They took their drinks to empty table further down the beach, wading through the sand and trying desperately not to spill anything over the lip of their pineapples. Steve wobbled slightly as he sat down and sent his drink sloshing over his palm. He licked it clean on impulse, only realising when he felt Bucky’s eyes on him that the move probably looked quite suggestive. Bucky quirked and eyebrow and Steve felt his cheeks burn. Hopefully it would be too dark for Bucky to notice the blush.

“Twelve dollars a drink, these had better be good.” Bucky leant forwards to slurp through his straw. He straightened, coughed, and grinned. “Whoa, that’s strong!”

Steve tried his own and nearly choked on the combination of fiery liquor and overly sweet pineapple flavour. “What the hell’s in these?”

“Apart from enough liquor to stock the mini bars upstairs?” Bucky laughed. “I think I’m getting notes of pineapple? Maybe some sugary undertones?”

That drew a laugh from Steve, half barked and catching in his throat as it surprised him. Bucky looked so pleased with himself, slurping away and stirring his straw around the drink that Steve found himself smiling back. He settled back into his chair, stretched his legs under the table and let his toes bury themselves in the sand, exhaling slowly and feeling at ease for the first time in months. He hadn’t realised just how stressed and worried he’d been about the wedding. It was nice to switch off and relax.

“Coup’la these and you’ll have forgotten your worries in no time.” Bucky plucked the umbrella from his drink, sucked the end clean, and dropped into the table. He already looked a little tipsy.

“I should warn you,” Steve said, feeling it was only fair to mention it now. “I don’t really get drunk very easily.”

“That a challenge?” Bucky smirked.

“No.”

“You’ve clearly not tried to right stuff.”

“Oh, no. I have.”

“Yeah?”

“Row crew initiation. Second year of college. You know those yard glasses? You normally drink ale from?”

Bucky nodded that he did, still slurping from his straw, eyes locked on Steve.

“They made us drink a yard of vodka. I think they watered it down some. But. Yeah. I’ve never felt so wasted in my life. It either kicked my liver into overdrive or shut it down completely. Either way, I’ve never really been able to get drunk since.”

“Challenge accepted.” A devilish smirk curved across Bucky’s lips.

Steve shook his head, powering through his drink to catch up with Bucky’s half empty pineapple.

“So what’s your story?”

“Huh?”

“You’re here for your sister’s wedding?” Steve prompted.

“Oh, yeah. Becca’s getting married on Saturday." Bucky's smiled looked fond. "She always wanted a tropical beach wedding. A few years ago we never would have been able to afford anything like this, but then an estranged grandma we never knew about died and left us a load of inheritance. I’m still getting used to the idea that I have money now. It’s fucking weird.”

Steve knew how that felt. Even after his business started making decent returns on it its dividends, Steve had never liked spending lavish amounts of money. This trip had been the exception, and look how well that had turned out. Well, he glanced at Bucky sitting opposite him, it hadn’t been all bad, he supposed.

“Dad never talked about his parents so we always just figured they’d died already? He died when I fifteen and they never even came to the funeral so,” Bucky shrugged and slurped up the last of his drink.

Steve reeled at the sudden change in tone, and the way Bucky spoke so casually about losing a parent, though Steve suspected that it was some kind of coping mechanism. “Sorry to hear that.” Steve’s own dad had died before he was born, so he knew a thing or two about living without a father, but it was hard to grieve someone you’d never known. “That must have been tough.” It had been infinitely harder to loose his Ma a week shy of his eighteenth birthday.

Bucky shrugged again. “Hit mom the hardest I think. She’d never had to work before, then – bam – she was the sole earner. We had to make some…adjustments.” Bucky looked away and picked at the spikes on the side of his pineapple. “We adapted. I joined the army when I was eighteen and they paid for me to go to college after I was discharged.” He took to using the cocktail umbrella to stab holes in the lip of the pineapple. It was clearly still a sore subject and Steve felt awful about inadvertently bringing it up. “I often wonder if things would have been different back then, if we’d had more money. I doubt I would have enlisted, and I’d’ve probably been there when she got sick. When she…” Bucky tipped his head back and let out a breath that shuddered slightly.

Steve didn’t know what to say. Comforting words had never been his forte. His advice usually boiled down to taking action or getting revenge; neither of which were helpful in this scenario.

“Sorry. You didn’t really want to hear any of that.”

“I asked, didn’t I?” Steve said softly. “What a miserable pair of orphans we make.”

Bucky’s eyes snapped back to Steve’s; his expression unreadable.

“How about this? I’ll go and get us refills on the. Pineapples.” Steve suggested. He still hadn’t figured out what cocktail it was supposed to be other than it contained a lot of rum, and maybe even some tequila. “And then no more talk of sad things, alright?”

“Alright.” Bucky managed a weak smile. His feet found Steve’s under the table and kicked a load of sand in his direction. Steve found it disproportionately charming. He pushed his chair back and picked his way towards the bar, glancing back at Bucky as he waited for the drinks. He’d sunk low in his chair, legs stretched out before him, bare ankles crossed. Steve watched as Bucky carded his fingers through his hair and tipped his head back to the stars.

From the moment he’d touched down on the island, Steve couldn’t wait to be gone from it. Now he wasn’t sure he’d been too hasty to throw in the towel.


	5. Bucky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More drinking and bonding on the beach :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seriously, thank you so much for the reaction to this story! Your comments are giving me life :D so glad you all like it!

“I really thought you’d be able to see more stars from here,” Steve said, handing Bucky his drink.

Overhead the sky was pitch black. In fact it was near impossible to see anything beyond the orange circles spewed out by the torches and candles. The sea was a mysterious invisible force behind them, you had to really peer to see the white foam dancing up the beach.

“Should be able to. We’re too close to the fire.” Bucky reasoned. 

“Ah. Makes sense.”

“We can move down the beach?”

“No, no.” Steve went to sit down, but Bucky stood up.

“No, come on. You should see the stars properly before you go back to all that light pollution tomorrow.” Bucky insisted.

He led Steve down the beach away from the glare of the fire, settling into the sand which felt cool beneath his legs. As his eyes adjusted to the gloom, a million and one twinkling stars revealed themselves against the once black sky; turning it navy blue and indigo with a cloudy stripe seeping out from the centre.

“I’ve not seen this many stars since…” Steve faltered. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen this many stars.”

“Neat isn’t it?” Bucky had spent many a long night camped out under the stars, often with nothing but his helmet and his rifle for company. But it was a view he never got tired of.

“Strange to think that they’re up there all the time, just drowned out by the city lights.” Steve’s face was transfixed, eyes wide and jaw slack with childlike wonderment. His expression was world’s away from the tortured expression he’d worn on the ferry. It was nice to see him relaxed and at ease.

“Can you see any stars in DC?”

“Not really. It’s cloudy, usually. But even when it’s clear, no more than one or two. To be honest, I don’t often bother to look up.”

Bucky was almost offended. He always leapt at every opportunity to stargaze. “You should.”

Steve hummed in agreement. He placed his drink in the sand and lent back to get a better view.

“Will you go back to DC?” Bucky asked, copying Steve and crossing his arms behind his head in the sand. From that angle the sky opened up like a dome overhead, the stars reaching right down into the waves beyond their feet.

“To start with. I need to get my stuff from the apartment. Then I’ll probably head back to New York. DC’s a nice city. I like the museums, but it never felt like home, and without Peg…”

“The museums in New York are pretty great too.” Bucky offered, steering the conversation in a safer direction.

“Yeah they are. God, it’s been years since I’ve been to the Met. I used to go Saturday afternoons whilst my Ma was at work. Sit and sketch all my favourite paintings. I could spend hours in there. Completely lose track of time.”

“I’ve never been to the Met.”

Now it was Steve’s turn to look aghast.

“I lived in Brooklyn for a spell, but never bothered to make the trip.” Bucky admitted.

“You should.” Steve turned his own words against him.

Bucky smiled. “Yeah, maybe I will.”

“Where did you live in Brooklyn?”

“Prospect Heights, just off Washington Avenue.”

“No way.” Steve pushed himself up onto his elbows and grinned at Bucky. “I grew up on St. Marks. Is that deli still there on the corner of Dean Street?”

Dean Street? Was Steve for real? Bucky had only gone there every day for lunch whilst he’d lived there. “Oh yeah. Only the best pastrami on rye in the whole city.”

“Small world.”

“Yeah,”

Steve slumped back into the sand and Bucky continued to stare. His let his mind conjure fantasies of them crossing paths in Brooklyn instead, where Steve wasn’t nursing a broken heart. When he didn’t have to leave in the morning.

“What time’s your flight tomorrow?”

“11.10. If I catch the 8am ferry, I should get to the airport in time.”

“Ugh, that’s too early.” Bucky groaned just thinking about having to get up that before 10 on a day off.

Steve laughed at him, and wasn’t that just the most magical sound? “I thought you were an army man. 0600 drills, and all that.”

“Yup” Bucky sighed. “But just because I had to, doesn’t mean I enjoy waking up before noon. It was one of the reasons I got out.” Bucky laughed back. Admittedly it was very low on his list of reasons, but that was not a thread he wanted to pull on right now. If they opened that can of worms, they’d stray into the sad shit territory real quick.

“What unit were you with?”

“Rangers. 75th.” Bucky said, offhand. People always asked, and then nodded along, pretending like it meant anything to them. But the flicker of recognition in Steve’s face was unmistakable, even though the gloom.

“Black ops? That’s heavy stuff.” He sounded awed.

“Yeah. But I was a sniper so I saw most of the action from far away, through my scope.” His forced casualness didn’t fool Steve. “You know someone in the army?”

“Airforce. My friend Sam. He was with Pararescue? He said he worked with your unit a few times. Always sounded a little in awe, if I’m honest.”

“Nah, man.” Bucky sat up on his elbows. “The pararescue guys were the real heroes. They got us out of a few tight spots.” Sam. The name rang a bell. “What was your friend called? Sam…?”

“Wilson. Technical Sergeant.”

Holy shit. Bucky bolted upright and turned to stare at Steve. Small fucking world after all. “Sam _Wilson_?”

Steve sat up too, moving slowly with a frown creasing his brows and that pout back on his lips. “You knew him?”

“He saved my fucking life.” Bucky laughed at the sheer improbability of it all. “Pulled me out of Deh Bala.”

Steve’s face flickered through surprise, horror, and something dangerously close to pity.

“You were in Deh Bala?” he asked in a low voice.

Bucky’s stomach roiled. This was exactly the thread he hadn’t wanted to pull on. “He told you about that.”

“Not the specifics. It’s all classified. But I read what I could on the news.” Steve continued, talking quietly. “Eight US Rangers captured in the Nangahar Province, held captive for 43 days. 3 dead. Must have been one hell of an ordeal.”

“Yeah.” Bucky scratched at his left shoulder, a nervous tick he thought he’d got rid of. “But I got out.” Mostly in one piece. “Left the army pretty quickly after that.” He hoped Steve could tell by his tone that he really didn’t want to talk about it. He’d done talking about it; with therapists, psychiatrists, VA groups. It had helped him come to terms with everything that had happened, helped him move on. But now that he was passed it, Bucky didn’t see the point in opening up the box that was locked neatly away in the back corner of his mind.

Thankfully Steve didn’t pry.

“How is Sam? What’s he up to now?”

“He’s good. He’s my COO, now. Which basically means he runs the company whilst I get to do all of the fun stuff. I couldn’t do any of without him. Great guy.”

“Yeah.” Bucky agreed.

“What do you do now?”

Bucky grinned, now this was something he actually enjoyed talking about. “I work with WitSec, in their Midwest office; helping people relocate and find new jobs. It sounds cooler than it is. Most of the time it’s pushing paper around and doing admin,” Bucky wasn’t sure why he was playing it down. Usually he tried to talk it up, making it sound like was doing super-secret-spy-shit. Maybe it was because he knew Steve’s ex fiancée worked for the actual CIA, and maybe because he didn’t want to bulllshit Steve. “But it’s nice, helping build lives rather than…what I was doing before.”

“Sounds really worthwhile.”

Bucky shrugged. “It can be rewarding, when people get settled. But a lot of the time it’s people complaining about where we place them. I get it, though. Must be hard shutting the door on your old life, moving across country, cut off from all of your old friends and family. Even if it’s for the best.”

“Yeah…” Steve slumped back into the sand and Bucky noticed how familiar that sounded to Steve’s situation. Making a new life for himself, potentially losing mutual friends…

“Do you think you’ll stay in touch?” he asked before he thought better of it.

“What?”

“With Peggy?”

“Oh.” Steve cocked his knee and wrapped his hands around his shin, curling in on himself slightly. Bucky felt bad for bringing the topic up again. “I hope so. We were friends first, I hope we can get back to that. Might take me a while to get there.”

“No doubt.”

“God. I’ve known her for fourteen years. We were together for eleven. I can’t…” it was like he’d only just realised they might not stay in touch. Guilt flushed through Bucky, prickling unpleasantly under his skin. “I don’t even know who I am without her. I owe her everything… Everything I am, it’s because of her…” Steve’s breath caught and stuttered.

“Hey. No. That’s unfair.” Bucky pressed. “Give yourself some credit. You’d still be you.”

“A very different me. One I’m not sure I’d like.” Steve said in a very small voice.

It hurt to hear Steve talk about himself so deprecatingly. Bucky turned to face him, and reached out to give his arm a gentle squeeze. “The guy who used to sit in the Met sketching paintings, the guy who earned himself a scholarship to fucking _Princeton_, the guy who gave his room to a complete stranger because he thought they needed it more, the guy who didn’t pry at my service history because I didn’t want to talk about it, even though I can tell you’re dying to ask: that’s all you. And he doesn’t sound all that bad.” Bucky said firmly. “In fact, he sounds pretty fucking great.”

Steve didn’t immediately reply. He looked like he wasn’t sure how to respond. He swallowed, and brought his hand up to rest on top of Bucky’s.

“Thanks,” he managed, after a few false starts.

Bucky just smiled. “I’m going to go get us more drinks. Don’t go anywhere, okay?”

“I won’t.”

Bucky gave Steve’s arm another squeeze before he pushed himself to his feet, marvelling at the strange warmth suddenly flooding through his chest.


	6. Steve

Steve sat up and brought his knees to his chest, hugging his arms around his shins. He stared out across the gloomy waves as a conflicting mix of emotions churning through his mind. The stars twinkled before him, some of them so bright they were reflected as white smudges that shifted and rolled with the waves. He watched them, mesmerised, and found his thoughts drifting back to the wedding that never was.

“You good?” Sam had asked placing a comforting hand on Steve’s arm as they sat in the side chapel of the big old church Peggy had picked for the occasion. Steve had nodded, preoccupied with trying to quiet the nerves and jitters in his stomach. 

Then Peggy, a vision in white lace, had stepped into the room. Her hair was rolled and pinned in elegant curls. Perfect red lipstick adorned her face and a delicate string of pearls rested above her collarbones. God, she’d looked stunning. Steve’s first impulse had been for a camera or a paintbrush to immortalise her.

“Hey,” Steve had said when she’d entered, bolting up, alert and amazed. “Isn’t it bad luck to see you before?” His grin was dopey and lopsided, unable to believe his luck. Well, he hadn’t been that lucky, had he?

There’d been a pause. A charged silence that still haunted Steve whenever he was left alone with his thoughts. The beat before the other shoe dropped, before Peggy had said those fateful words and brought his world crashing down. “I’m sorry, Steve. I can’t do this.”

Steve squeezed his eyes shut and dropped his forehead to rest against his knees. He wasn’t going to cry again, he told himself. He wasn’t. Unfortunately, his body had other ideas; not helped by the amount of rum and god-knows what else sloshing around in his system. He felt a lump growing at the back of his throat and tears prick in the corners of his eyes. He lifted his head to wipe them from his cheeks, when he found half a coconut being thrust under his nose.

“They ran out of pineapples,” Bucky explained, sounding more than a little tipsy now. Certainly, when he went to sit down he misjudged the distance to the floor and landed in the sand with a thump that sloshed drink all down his front.

“Oops,” he laughed, and sucked at the stretch of skin between his thumb and finger to mop up the spill. It didn’t look as suggestive as Steve had feared, but it was infinitely more endearing. “These taste more like straight up piña coladas, though. So they’re probably safer.”

Steve tested his drink, finding it was stronger than any piña colada had the right to be, and coughed against the burning at the back of his throat. He placed it gently in the sand next to his leg, not really in the mood for another drink anyway. Coughing again to clear the lump from his throat Steve hastily wiped the salty tracks from his cheeks. He was sure Bucky had noticed them, but thankfully he wasn’t commenting on it.

“What’s that bright star?” Steve asked, searching for a topic of conversation far removed from their troubled pasts.

“Sirius.” Bucky replied, after a brief scan of the stars.

“Like the character from Harry Potter?” Steve stared at the spec of white blazing slightly brighter than the other stars around it.

“Yup. Part of the Canis Major constellation.”

“The ‘greater dog’.” Steve translated. “Subtle. How did no one figure his animagus was a dog?”

“Because people like you don’t know their constellations,” Bucky ribbed lightly in a familiar and comforting way.

“Does that mean there’s a ‘canis minor’ too?”

“Yeah. Look higher, three stars in a line? Unevenly spaced?”

Steve tried to see where Bucky meant, but you could quite easily draw a line through any three stars. He never really understood what made constellations so special.

“I thought Orion was three stars in a line?”

“That too. He’s closer to the horizon, his bow and arrow are just below the water line at the moment.” Bucky slurped from his straw, speaking so casually and confidently about a subject which had always baffled Steve. Steve had to admit, he was rather impressed. “See there?” Bucky leant close to Steve to better approximate his eye line and gestured to a string of stars sloping down towards the horizon. Bucky lingered for a moment, letting their shoulders brush before he pulled away, lying back on his elbows in the sand.

“I’ve never understood how you get all that from three stars in a line.” Steve admitted. Bucky tipped his head back and laughed before giving Steve a smile that crinkled his eyes and curved delightfully up into his cheeks.

“That’s just his belt. C’mere.” Bucky sat up again and took Steve’s hand, stretching it out towards the stars and tracing a shape in the sky. “That’s his shoulder, arm raised holding a sword – or spear, depends on your preference – then down here’s his tunic, belt, and other arm extended with a bow.” Steve tried to pay attention but he was more fixated on Bucky’s warm breath on his cheek and the way his fingers were wrapped delicately around Steve’s wrist. “Gotta use your imagination a little bit, of course, but I can’t see how that would be hard for an artist like you.” Bucky smirked at Steve and pulled back. “I love constellations. Used to love hearing all the stories that went with them. My dad would tell us them instead of a bed time story.” Bucky smiled fondly at the memory. It sounded lovely, and sparked a memory from Steve’s own past. One he hadn’t thought of in a long, long time.

“My ma used to tell me all the folk stories she grew up with in Ireland.” He remembered. “We’d sit down on the rocks in Gravesend Bay and she’d tell me we were looking out over the Atlantic towards home, whispering them above the wind.” Steve tried to recall one to share with Bucky as they sat looking out over the ocean, but all that came were fragmented bits and pieces. “I wish I’d written them down or paid more attention. I hardly remember them now.” He’d just assumed his mother would always be a constant in his life. Like he had with Peggy. “What’s your favourite constellation myth?” he asked quickly, to distract himself more than anything.

“_Well_,”

Bucky waxed lyrical about all of the constellations they could see, and some others that they couldn’t. He had a wonderful way with words – even if they were a little slurred - spinning bright tales that made Steve laugh, and taking full advantage of Steve’s ignorance to make-up ridiculous stories. At least, Steve didn’t _think_ there was an Angry Emperor Cat constellation, immortalising a furry fiend who’d terrorised a town in ancient Mesopotamia; but Bucky spoke with such assurance that it was easy to believe that there was. 

As they lazed on the sand the tide slowly crept towards them, masked in the darkness until it brushed right up against their toes and doused them in cold sea water. They leapt up in shock, expletives abounding, and scrambled back from the waves.

“Oh shit.”

“Fuck!”

The sudden rush of movement highlighted what lying in the sand had easily hidden; Bucky was very drunk. Even Steve’s brain felt cloudy and his limbs were a little slow on the uptake, but at least he could stand upright. Bucky took a step backwards and wobbled over, falling against Steve and dragging them pair of them back down in a tangle of limbs.

“Sorry,” he laughed, clutching onto Steve’s arm as Steve helped him back to his feet. Bucky wobbled again but Steve reached out to steady him and Bucky remained standing, even if he was swaying a little from side to side. “Man, those drinks were _strong_.”

“Steady there, Private,” Steve laughed, the words coming readily to his mouth though he wasn’t sure why – the drinks _must_ have been strong. He kept his hand hooked around Bucky’s bicep as Bucky took another step. His foot sunk into the sand and he wavered, but Steve held him firm.

“Fuck you, I was a sergeant.” Bucky grinned.

“Oh really?”

“No need to look so surprised.”

“It’s not that. I just never thought a special ops sergeant would be such a lightweight.” Steve teased.

“I’m not a lightweight.” Bucky gave up wobbling forwards under his own power and slumped against Steve’s side, letting himself be half dragged back up the beach towards the hotel. An unspoken agreement seemed to have passed between them that they were ready to call it a night. “I’m not even that drunk.” He went on. “And as your _superior_ officer,” he drawled.

“Oh yeah?”

“Um. Sergeant? And…” he gestured loosely at Steve.

“I was the Captain of the rowing team, if that counts.”

“Course it doesn’t.” Bucky said, but it an affectionate sort of way. “As I was saying,” they staggered past the bar and back up the torch lined footpath towards the hotel. “As the ranking officer, what I say goes. And I say I’m not drunk.”

Bucky’s argument might have been a little more compelling if he hadn’t, at that moment, missed his footing on the steps up to the patio and almost sent them both crashing into the pool. Luckily Steve was still steady on his feet.

“As you were saying?” Steve laughed.

“Fuck off.” Bucky said entirely without malice. “I’ve hardly eaten anything today. And those drinks _were_ strong.”

Steve frowned, disproportionately worried. “When did you last eat?” he steered Bucky through the patio doors and guided him towards a sofa in the bar area. In the bright lights of the hotel the tipsy glaze in Bucky’s eyes was obvious. As was the dishevelled state of his appearance; barefoot, covered in sand, sloshes of piña colada and salt water all down his front, ruffled hair that had been run through and tufted until odd bits of it stuck up at angles. 

“Erm? I had a bagel on the plane?” Bucky squinted and screwed up his nose trying to remember.

“This morning?”

Bucky gave a lazy nod. Christ, no wonder the drinks had hit him so hard. Steve’s altruistic nature began to kick into overdrive.

“We need to find you some food.” Would the restaurants even still be serving food at this hour? Steve wondered, helplessly.

“Pizza.” Bucky agreed. “With lots of cheese.” Bucky tipped his head back against the back of the sofa and gave Steve the biggest, soppiest smile he’d ever seen.

“Alright,” Steve laughed. For a smile like that he’d find Bucky some pizza, even if he had to bake it himself.


	7. Steve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "What room are you?”  
“414.” Bucky pressed himself against Steve’s side again as they headed for the elevators. “Why? Are you taking me to bed?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Seeeriously slowburn.) I won't try and predict chapter numbers, but this is fic is currently on track to be 20-30k long! Thanks for all your comments so far <3 so glad that you all like it!!!

Steve slipped his shoes back on and crossed over to the bar to find his fears confirmed: all of the bars and restaurants had stopped serving food after 10pm.

“Can we order room service?” he asked, scratching at the back of his neck.

“Certainly, sir. Orders can be called down from your room.”

“Can’t I order it here?”

“I’m sorry. No.”

Fuck. Steve cursed silently. He forced a smile and thanked the barman for his help, feeling that he hadn’t really been any help at all. Carding a hand through his hair, Steve headed back to Bucky, to find him clumsily trying to lace his sneakers back onto his feet.

“We can still order room service,” Steve explained to Bucky, as he struggled with his laces. “But we can only order it from a room.”

“Makes sense,” Bucky glanced up with heavy lidded eyes. “Otherwise it wouldn’t be _room _service_._” He smirked and then dropped his gaze back to his shoes with a single minded determination. In his drunken haze, his hand-eye coordination was severely lacking. Steve could only watch for so long, biting his lip to stop himself from laughing at Bucky, before he dropped to his knees and took Bucky’s shoes into his lap to lace them up for him.

“Come here, you daft drunk,” he chuckled as he swiftly tied Bucky shoes for him. He could feel Bucky’s eyes boring into him. Steve’s cheeks flushed red with the attention, but daren’t lift his eyes to see what kind of stare Bucky was giving him. “There.” he gave Bucky’s feet a gentle pat and stood up, extending a hand to pull Bucky to his feet. “What room are you?”

“414.” Bucky pressed himself against Steve’s side again as they headed for the elevators. “Why? Are you taking me to bed?”

“I’m going to order you some food.” Steve corrected, cheeks burning.

Bucky peeled away from Steve inside the elevator and propped himself in the corner. He tilted his head and fixed his attention on Steve with a look that Steve was completely unprepared for.

Steve was used to being stared at. Ever since his shoulders had filled out and he’d gained an extra foot in height, people had loved to stare at Steve. Long, lusty looks that dragged over him in the supermarket, giggles that erupted in his wake as he hurried to and from the office, people finding excuses to bump into him on the metro. He knew it was harmless, certainly nothing to the jeers and threatening attention Peggy got when she dressed up – even when she didn’t – but it had still taken some getting used to. Sometimes Steve longed for the invisibility he’d felt in his youth. But this, this was something else entirely. It was so unapologetically _tender_. No one had ever looked at him like that. Steve dropped his eyes and looked away. Thankfully the elevator doors dinged open and they were saved from any awkwardness as they spilled out onto the corridor.

Bucky walked with his hand pressed against the wall to keep himself upright and fished his key-card from his back pocket, only fumbling a few times to try and fit it into the slot. He flicked the lights on at the wall and proceeded to face plant himself straight onto the bed on top of sheets which were already a little rucked and rumpled.

“Pizza?” Steve asked.

“Yes please.” Came the muffled reply.

Steve lifted the phone and dialled 1 for reception. “Hi, can I order room service please?” he tried again. “Yeah, a large margarita pizza and a bottle of still water, please. Thanks.” He hung up and glanced around the room. Bucky rolled onto his back and stretched his limbs out like a cat. “Ordered.” Steve told him.

“Thanks.”

“Mind if I use your bathroom?”

Bucky didn’t reply, just gestured vaguely towards the open door.

As he washed his hands in the sink, Steve caught his reflection in the mirror and realised he looked rather dishevelled himself. His hair flopped loose from its usual swept back hold, and he’d brought quite a lot of the beach back with him in the creases of his trousers. He dusted off the worst of the sand and straightened out his shirt. He tried to sweep his hair back but, stubbornly, it kept falling across his forehead. Steve gave it up a lost cause and exited the bathroom, turning the light off as he went.

Bucky had kicked off his shoes and thrown his sand covered jeans over the back of the sofa by the time Steve emerged. He was sitting up against the pillows, texting rapid fire with a look of fierce concentration on his face. Judging from how he’d failed to tie his shoes, Steve highly doubted that any of it would be legible, but he seemed settled; slightly more sober. Steve didn’t particularly want to leave, but he’d run out of reasons to stay.

“Alright, well.” Steve lingered. “I’ll leave you in peace. Thank you for everything this evening, it was nice not to be alone. I hope Becca’s wedding goes well.” He moved towards the door as Bucky scrambled upright. He knelt up, with the covers bunched around his legs, and frowned at Steve.

“Where are you going?”

“I was going to go…to the bar…” Steve trailed off. He’d been planning to go back down the bar and wait until the ferry left in the morning.

“Don’t be stupid.” Bucky shook his head at Steve like he was an idiot. “This room’s plenty big enough for the both of us. No point you sitting in the bar, moping all night.”

Steve was stumped.

“Stay here. Get some sleep before you fly tomorrow.” Bucky wobbled a little and slumped back onto his heels. “There’s nothing worse than getting on a plane hungover and sleep deprived. Trust me. Well,” Bucky considered. “There are a few things worse – quite a lot of things worse – but this is completely avoidable.” He patted the mattress next to him and scooted over to leave Steve more space. “Or there’s a sofa. I can sleep there if you’d rather?”

Steve opened his mouth to reply, not entirely sure what he was going to say – when they were interrupted by a knock on the door.

Steve stepped back to let the bellboy wheel the room service trolley into the room. He watched as the bellboy uncovered the metal cloche that had been covering the pizza and neatly laid out the cutlery, before showing him back to the door. As he fished out a couple of notes to give as a tip, Steve caught sight of the cloak room tag he’d been given earlier. He hesitated, aware that Bucky was still waiting for an answer. It was only for one night, and spending it here did sound infinitely more appealing than sitting in the bar all night. Before he could change his mind, or think better of it, Steve handed the tag to the bellboy.

“I left my suitcase behind reception earlier. Tag 37. Could you bring it up?”

The bellboy rolled his eyes like, yes he _could_ but why hadn’t Steve asked for that at the same time as the pizza? He trooped down the corridor and Steve closed the door gently.

“You sure it’s okay?” he asked Bucky.

“I asked, didn’t I?” Bucky grinned back. “Now get over here and help me eat this pizza. There’s way too much to get through on my own.”

They found a late late tv show on the telly and sat side by side, working their way through the pizza, dinking plenty of water, and just basking in the company of someone else. Before long, Bucky fell asleep; slumped against the pillows with a piece of pizza dangling from his hand. Steve gently extracted it from between Bucky’s fingers and placed it back on the plate, covering everything back up with the cloche and wheeling the trolley to the corner of the room. He very quietly pulled his toothbrush from his suitcase and set out a fresh set of clothes for the morning. He stripped down his to boxers and undershirt and packed everything else away neatly.

After he’d finished in the bathroom Steve hesitated in the doorway, torn between choosing the sofa or crawling into bed with Bucky. Bucky had been right, there was plenty of space for both of them, and the sofa was a small two-seater that Steve would barely fit on, even if he curled right up. But still…Steve exhaled slowly and took a step towards the sofa.

“Steve,” Bucky said softly under his breath. His eyes were heavy lidded with sleep, half closed, and his voice was barely more than a muffled whispered. “C’mere.” He patted the empty space next to him and tugged gently on the covers in a clear invitation to share the bed.

It was an invitation Steve was powerless to deny.

“Wake me up before you leave tomorrow?” Bucky asked, groggy and sleepy. “Wanna say goodbye.”

“Sure thing.” Steve promised. He set an alarm for 6am and placed his phone on the bedside table. “Good night.”

“Night.” Bucky rolled away from him an fell instantly back to sleep.

Steve tensed in the dark, listening to their breaths and wondering at the fluttering in his chest. He didn’t expect to sleep very easily, it had taken him a while to get used to sleeping beside Peggy, but as soon as Steve’s head hit the pillow he felt a wave of exhaustion wash over him and he sunk into a deep and dreamless sleep.


	8. Bucky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky took a moment to revel in the feel of soft pillows under his head, armfuls of soft duvet bundled against his chest, and – most surprisingly and delightfully of all – the warm weight of Steve sleeping next to him.

Bucky had been out of the army for six years, but waking up on his own time, knowing he had a whole day ahead of him with nothing planned still felt like a luxury. His head thrummed with a slight hangover, but it was nothing a strong coffee wouldn’t fix. Bucky took a moment to revel in the feel of soft pillows under his head, armfuls of soft duvet bundled against his chest, and – most surprisingly and delightfully of all – the warm weight of Steve sleeping next to him. At some point in the night Bucky must have rolled over and stolen most of the covers, and somehow their legs had ended up tangled together. Bucky vaguely recalled hooking his ankle around Steve’s calf to make sure he couldn’t leave without saying goodbye, but Steve hadn’t tried to extract his leg. Instead Bucky’s was trapped between both of Steve’s in a way that felt strangely comforting.

Now that he was awake Bucky needed to piss, but he couldn’t bring himself to move just yet. He cracked open an eye to gaze at Steve, and let out a soft ‘_oh’_ as he did. Steve slept on his front, with his arms crossed under his head, bunching the pillows and bulging his biceps. Blonde hair fell across his face catching the sunlight that fell through a gap in the curtains. Why anyone would choose not to wake up next to that every morning was beyond Bucky. Ever so gently he pulled his leg free and muttered a sleepy, “Good morning.”

Steve stirred. He rolled onto his back and stretched his limbs with a great yawning groan before springing back in on himself. “Morning,” he returned with a smile. They shared a peaceful moment before Steve bolted upright, grabbing his phone off the nightstand. “Fuck! My phone’s dead. What time is it?”

Oh shit. Bucky scrambled upright to swipe his phone. It was on 3% battery. And they’d massively overslept.

“10:03.” 

“_Shit_.” Steve swore loudly, tugging his fingers through his hair.

“Can you make your flight?” Bucky asked quietly, knowing full well the answer was _no._

“No. Check-in closes in seven minutes.” Steve swung his legs over the side of the bed and doubled over, clearly thinking hard.

Bucky shrunk back against the pillows feeling guilt prickle and squirm through him. “Sorry.” he tugged a hand through his hair, ruffling up his already messy bedhead. “This is my fault.”

“What do you mean?” Steve glanced over his shoulder at Bucky.

“If I hadn’t distracted you and dragged you off to get drunk…”

Steve turned around, folding his knee onto the mattress.

“It’s not your fault, Bucky. If you hadn’t _kept me company_,” Steve corrected, “I would have spent all evening sitting in the bar, on my own, doing my damndest to get drunk. I might have caught my flight, but I’d have been miserable.” Steve gave Bucky a sad smile. “I’ll just have to book a new flight. Again.” He pushed himself off the bed and took a few aimless steps forwards.

Bucky watched as Steve dragged his hands through his hair, interlocking his fingers at the base of his skill and let his head hang forwards. He was the picture of unhappiness, it damn near broke Bucky’s heart.

“I think there’s a flight out to Philadelphia this afternoon.” Steve’s voice was muffled against his chest, until he tipped his head back and let his hands slip down the sides of his jaw, coming to rest on his chin. “I can get a train down to DC from there.” With that plan formed he set about packing to leave: making his side of the bed, finding a charger for his phone, and digging his wash kit out of his suitcase. He’d lost of all the lightness he’d had the evening before, moving with slow lethargic movements.

Bucky knelt up on the mattress and pulled absently at the collar of his t-shirt, clawing at his throat. The words were out of his mouth before he knew it. All he knew was that he didn’t want Steve to leave.

“Or you could stay.”

“What?” Steve froze in the doorway of the bathroom.

“You could stay.” Bucky repeated, quieter.

It took Steve a few long moments to reply. “Why?” Steve’s eyebrows quirked together, he looked interested rather than simply confused. “Why would I stay?”

Bucky took a deep trembling breath and launched into a justification. “Well, you really seem like you could use a holiday. And, I mean, you’ve already taken the time off work – you’re already _here_. You all but told me yesterday that you have nowhere to go when you get home, and,” he trailed off, not sure why he was pushing for this.

“That’s true. Fuck.” Steve sighed emphatically. “I can’t go back to the apartment.” He pinched at the bridge of his nose and screwed his eyes closed.

Bucky cursed himself internally. So far he was only making things worse.

“So, stay. For a few days at least. I know it must be weird being here…on your own. But.” Bucky faltered. “Why not take a few days? Let the dust settle? What have you got to lose?” Oh god, that sounded awful. Bucky hastened to backtrack. “Not like, I didn’t mean it like that. I just meant. Everyone deserves a holiday now and then. So, stay? Please?”

Steve considered for a while and Bucky waited with baited breath. But then Steve shook his head. “One problem. The hotel’s full, remember? I already gave my room to your sister. I’m not asking for it back.”

“You could. You paid for it.”

“No.”

“Then, you…” Bucky searched for an alternative, eyes glancing to the pillows Steve had already so neatly rearranged. “You could stay here?”

Steve didn’t immediately balk at the idea so Bucky continued with more confidence.

“Yeah, why not? Last night wasn’t too weird. At least not for me. I think I actually got a better night’s sleep than I have in a long time – ‘course that could have been the rum,” he allowed with a small smile. “Or I really could sleep on the sofa if you’d prefer.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“Trust me, I’ve slept in worse places.” Bucky tried to draw a smile from Steve but he was keeping his expression masked, unlike yesterday evening when Bucky had been able to read every emotion that flickered across Steve’s face.

“Thank you. For the offer. But I can’t.” Steve shook his head. “You have your sister’s wedding. I don’t want to get in the way.”

“You won’t be!” Bucky insisted. “Apart from the rehearsal dinner tomorrow evening and the wedding itself, there’s not a whole lot for me to do. To be honest, once the rest of the guests go home I’m gonna be such a third wheel.”

Bucky was staying on longer than the rest of the guests because who wouldn’t want two weeks of tropical sunshine? Paying all that money and travelling all that way for a long weekend had seemed like such a waste when they’d originally booked the trip. Besides, the resort offered boat trips, snorkelling, hikes into the mountains. Bucky wanted to try everything; he’d planned an itinerary equal parts adventurous and relaxing - promising not to get in the way of Becca and Rob's honeymoon. But as much as he was looking forward to doing everything on his own, Bucky couldn’t deny it would be far more fun to have somebody to enjoy it with.

“So if you think about it, you’d actually be doing me a favour.” He finished with a smirk.

Steve dipped his head and glanced up at Bucky with a sly smile. “Is that right?”

Bucky might have been imagining it, but there was a definitely a flirtatious lilt to Steve’s tone.

“Yep.” Bucky grinned back.

“It would be nice,” Steve allowed. “To kick back for a few days. Not worrying about the apartment, or work.” He held Bucky’s stare for a moment. It seemed like an important moment so Bucky made sure he didn’t look away, no matter how much the intense stare of Steve’s bright blue eyes made him flinch. “Alright, then. I’ll stay. If you’re sure that’s okay?”

“Of course it is.” Internally Bucky gave a delighted squeal, outwardly he just grinned back.

“Alright.” Steve nodded and smiled. Tension seemed to seep out of his shoulders and, if possible, he grew a couple of inches taller. “I’d better phone Sam, let him know I won’t be in work tomorrow. What time is it?”

“10.15.”

“I think they said breakfast was served until 10.30. If we hurry, we might make it.” Steve was clearly a plan oriented man. Bucky found he kind of liked it.

Steve plugged his phone in and began to extract clothes from his suitcase. Bucky glanced around for his own and came up short. Right. It was still missing. He slung his backpack onto the bed instead and dug through the contents, hoping he’d been sensible and packed more than just swimming trunks as a spare change. Of course he hadn’t. He plucked at the t-shirt he was wearing; the t-shirt which was covered in rum, coconut juice and sea water. This was a fancy place and Bucky was trying _not_ to disgust Steve. He couldn’t wear it for another day.

“Er. My luggage’s still stuck at the airport. D’you think they’ll let me go shirtless to breakfast?” Bucky asked Steve, holding up his pair of dark, floral patterned swimming shorts.

Steve snorted. “As much as I’d like to see that –”

_Wait, what?_

“– I doubt it. You can borrow one, if you’d like?” Steve pulled a shirt from the bottom of his suitcase and threw it at Bucky. It was navy blue, covered in red and white writing, and it was soft. Oh so soft.

“Thanks.”

Steve bundled up his own clothes and ducked into the bathroom to get changed, leaving Bucky standing there holding Steve’s t-shirt and trying to get a handle on everything that had just happened. Steve was staying. That was all that Bucky immediately cared about, until he probed at the reasons behind that feeling and felt everything lurch sideways.

There was no denying that Bucky thought Steve was attractive. The problem was that yesterday evening he’d also proven himself to be one of the most lovely, charming, intelligent, and genuine people Bucky had ever met. And alright, maybe Bucky was falling for him, ever so slightly. But it wasn’t like anything was going to happen between them. The man was still reeling from an eleven year relationship for goodness sake; an eleven year _heterosexual _relationship. Nothing could ever happen between them. Which had been okay when Steve was getting on a plane in the morning, never to be seen again. But Bucky had just agreed to share a room with him for two weeks. Fuck. What was he getting himself into?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise twist! Who ever could have seen that coming? :P Thank you so much for your comments, I love reading each and every one of them. Thank You!!!! <3


	9. Bucky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Breakfast & Becca's reaction.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all of your comments! <3

Bucky pulled himself together and changed quickly, wincing at the tightness in his shoulder as he pulled the t-shirt over his head. He’d been putting off physio for a few days and really needed to do some stretches to work out the stiffness before the whole joint seized up. Bucky rolled his shoulder a couple of times and kneaded at the mess of scars through the thin fabric of the shirt. He’d make up for it with some laps of the pool later, he promised himself.

Bucky had barely shimmied his trunks up over his hips when Steve emerged from the bathroom in another outfit straight from the pages of a summer fashion mag. He wore dark blue cotton shorts and a light blue short sleeved shirt, open at the collar with a pair of expensive looking sunglasses looped through the neck. His blonde hair was combed and neatly swept back from his forehead with a bit of bounce and, most devastatingly of all, he was smiling broadly.

“Suits you,” Steve grinned at Bucky, nodding his head at the shirt which Bucky had barley given a second glance. Bucky highly doubted that; it was roomy in the shoulders, a little too long in the torso, and Bucky knew the blue would clash horribly with the pattern on his shorts, but there was something delightful about the fact that it was _Steve’s_ shirt.

“It’ll do,” Bucky allowed, trying to mask how much he loved wearing it. “Thanks.”

“Do you know what happened to your luggage?”

“Not really. The bags landed, but they got lost somewhere between the plane and the carousel. Becca’s freaking out.”

“Oh. Wedding dress. Yeah, I’ll bet.”

“Still got a few days; they’ll turn up.” Bucky shrugged, ever hopeful. “Or else it’s bathrobes all round.”

That made Steve laugh.

Bucky returned a smile. “Just need to clean my teeth, then we can go.”

Luckily Bucky had almost forgotten to pack his toothbrush and it had ended up shoved into his backpack at the last minute. He stole some of Steve’s toothpaste and spent a long time making sure his breath was minty fresh, without letting himself linger over why. He ran his hands under the tap and used wet fingers to try and tame the tangled curls that bounced around his head, before stepping back to give his appearance a proper appraisal. His hair was a mess, there was nothing he could do about that, he could do with a shave, and - as he’d predicted - the t-shirt clashed with his shorts. Bucky peered closer to read the writing scrawled backwards in his reflection: _’Princeton Rowing Club 2008’ _arched above a pair of crossed oars. Bucky’s hands stilled in his hair. The fact that it wasn’t just any old shirt, but one Steve had kept, and loved, and worn for years did something funny to Bucky’s chest.

He dragged a hand down his face, feeling his five o’clock shadow bristling beneath his fingers, and took a few deep calming breaths. Maybe it was a good thing that Bucky wasn’t looking his best, otherwise he might start to get ideas about going after Steve.

=

They reached the restaurant at 10:27. The place was emptying out and already the staff were clearing the breakfast away. The waitress on the door was reluctant to let them enter, but Bucky turned on his charm and soon enough she was waving them through, with the promise that they’d sit in the corner and order immediately. 

“Black coffee, pancakes and bacon, please.” Bucky ordered after the briefest of glances at the menu.

“And I’ll have a latte and the Eggs Florentine, thanks.” Steve added, handing his menu back to the waitress who scribbled their order and hurried to the kitchen before it closed. “I’m going to get some orange juice before they clear it away – want anything?”

Bucky scanned the buffet table across the room which was currently being descended upon by the waitstaff. “Apple juice if they have any.”

Steve slipped away to fetch drinks and Bucky tipped his head back. Steve was just being polite; it shouldn’t haven’t made Bucky feel all warm and glowing inside. Bucky screwed his eyes shut and cursed his life choices. He was interrupted by a loud shout in what was unmistakably his sister’s voice.

“There you are!” Becca shouted across the restaurant. Bucky snapped his head back and blinked his eyes open as she hurried towards him, dragging Robert in her wake. “I’ve been looking all over for you. Are you alright?” she looked anxious.

“Fine?”

“I thought you’d died!”

Bucky laughed, brow creasing together. “What? Why?”

“You disappeared all evening, I get a text from you at 2am that’s complete gibberish and then this morning you’re not answering your phone!”

“Oh.” Bucky gave her a sheepish smile and his biggest doe-eyed look to try and melt her cross expression. From anyone else it would have been an overreaction, but after everything Becca had been through, Bucky could never begrudge her for being paranoid. He scratched at the nape of his neck. He’d meant to text her sooner, but the evening had spiralled away from him. “My phone died. And I got kind of drunk last night. Sorry.”

“I was _worried_ –”

She was cut off mid-sentence by Steve’s return. “Excuse me.” He eased himself around Becca to place the juices on the table, before extending his actual hand for her to shake. “Hi, I’m Steve. We never got formally introduced.”

Becca glared at him but shook his hand anyway. “Becca,” she said slowly, glancing between Bucky and Steve in confusion.

“Robert,” Rob piped up for himself, shaking Steve’s hand next; looking equally confused but much less worried about the fact that he didn’t know what was going on.

“Sorry, Bucky. Didn’t know you had company. Come on, Becs,” Rob steered Becca away from the table despite her protestations. Bucky shot him a look of thanks.

“Is that –? Are you –?” Becca started.

“We’ll catch up later.” Rob promised the pair of them, grabbing Becca’s hand and dragging her across the room. Becca let herself stumble after him, keeping her eyes fixed on Steve as she went. _IS THAT ROGERS? S_he mouthed obviously over Steve’s head.

Bucky tried to ignore her and focused on Steve instead who was smiling bashfully into his glass of orange juice.

_WHAT’S HE STILL DOING HERE?_

Bucky took a long swig of drink and stared intently at a flower arrangement across the room until Becca had disappeared from his peripheral vision. That was going to be a fun conversation later. It was one thing to question his own judgement, quite another to have it questioned by his sister. Thankfully their breakfasts were promptly delivered and Bucky lost himself in sickly sweet, syrupy pancakes and bacon, washed down with strong bitter coffee that cleared away the dregs of his hangover. He’d worry about everything else later.

=

Becca didn’t take long to corner Bucky by the poolside. She did at least wait until Steve had nipped back up to the room to fetch his swimming shorts and sun tan lotion before she ambushed him.

“You slept with him, didn’t you?” she asked, blunt as ever.

“What?”

“Y’know, when I said we should thank him, that wasn’t exactly what I had in mind.” She smirked.

“Becca!” Bucky spluttered. “I didn’t –”

“Oh sure. Yet you were eating breakfast with him, and somehow he’s still here when I know for a fact that there aren’t any hotel rooms spare on this island?” Her shit-eating-grin was just a cocky and annoying at Bucky’s own. He rolled his eyes.

“Fine. We ‘slept’ together, but I mean that in the purely literal sense.”

Becca’s grin turned smug. “How come he’s still here? Does he want his room back?”

“No. No. He, uh. Missed his flight. He’s going to stick around for a few days but he’s fine sharing with me.”

“I’ll bet he is.”

Bucky rubbed at his forehead. She wasn’t helping matters. “Becca. The man is heartbroken. I’m not moving in on that. Plus, I’m pretty sure he’s straight.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure, judging from the looks he was giving you a breakfast.”

_What looks?_ Bucky wanted to ask, but he changed his mind at the last second, letting his mouth close silently.

“Besides, aren’t rebounds are meant to be good for a broken heart?” She added, still grinning.

“Oh, yeah, and you’d know all about that. How long have you and Rob been together again?” Bucky returned.

“I’m just _saying_,” she shrugged and trailed off, letting whatever was she was saying hang unsaid in the air between them. But Bucky knew exactly what she was getting at. She’d recently taken it upon herself to try and set Bucky up with everyone even remotely eligible. He supposed it had something to do with the fact that she was finally getting married, she wanted to see Bucky happy and settled too. He understood the sentiment, but it didn’t meant he appreciated her efforts.

After the third consecutive ‘drinks with friends’ that Becca and Rob had bailed on ‘last minute’, leaving Bucky in a bar with one of their friends or colleagues, he’d less than politely asked them to fuck-off and stop interfering in his love life. He was just fine being single, thank you very much. Relationships were messy and complicated. Becca and Rob were the exception that proved the rule. Just look at Steve, for christ’s sake; eleven years in, and the rug was still pulled from under him.

“Nothing’s going to happen.” He pressed.

“Shame.” Becca sighed. “You’d make such lovely babies.”

“Yeah, because that’s how it works.” He snarked.

“I just want you to be happy.” She said in a much softer tone. She stepped forwards for a hug and Bucky obliged, opening his arms and letting her burying her head under his chin. There had been a time when they’d been the same height. Bucky had let his hair grow long that summer and they’d tried to convince everyone they were twins. But he liked the extra height, he liked that he could wrap her up like this, like he could protect her from anything. He could tell she was fighting off stress and panic.

“I know.” He planted a brotherly kiss on the top of her head and gave her a slight squeeze. “Any news on the bags?” he asked.

“If you’d answered your phone this morning, you’d know the answer to that.” She tipped her head and smiled. “They think they’ve found them – or they know where to look at least. There was a big tour group on our flight with pre-arranged transport to another island. Their bags got loaded straight from the plane onto a boat and our bags might have gone with them. They’re looking into it. We should get them back this evening if that’s the case.”

“See, nothing to worry about.”

“Better had. The hotel shampoo feels awful in my hair.” She broke away from the hug and ran her hands through her hair to show Bucky. Their hair had always been the same, Becca’s was just longer, and Bucky knew how difficult it was to get the wavy curls to behave. It took lots of conditioner and product to stop it from being a frizzy mess in the humidity, and those little bottles of ‘all-in-one!’ shampoo/conditioner only helped to make it a straw-like mess. “Forget my dress, I’m not having my hair like this in my wedding photos,” she moped, dramatic as ever.

“I’m sure we can find you some better shampoo. Worst case.” Bucky laughed. She mock-glared at him and caught sight of his t-shirt properly.

“Steve’s?”

“Yeah.

“Huh. So he’s hot _and _smart.”

Bucky folded his arms across his chest and shook his head. “I’m sure Rob would be _very_ interested in hearing how obsessed with this guy you seem to be.”

Becca gave him a solid push on his good shoulder. Bucky rolled with it and grinned.

“Hook up with him, or don’t. It’s none of my business, I know. But if you do… don’t, uh, bring him to the wedding? Sorry if that’s mean, but I don’t want to be constantly having to explain five years from now who that blonde hunk in all my wedding photos is.”

Bucky tipped his head back and laughed. “I won’t. He was very clear that he didn’t want to get in the way. Pretty sure he doesn’t expect, or want, an invite.”

“Okay, thanks.” She looked relieved. “Right. I’m going to go raid the hotel boutique and see if they have a bikinis in my price range. What are your plans for the day?”

“Swimming, reading, more swimming?”

“We’ve got those massage vouchers if you want them? You know how much I hate people’s hands near my neck,” she shuddered even thinking about it. Bucky’s hands twitched, tempted to taunt her like he had when they were kids, but he thought better of it, crossing them tighter across his chest to resist the temptation. “Last thing I want is a massage. Might do your shoulder some good?”

“Yeah, okay. Thanks.”

“Meet up for dinner later?”

“Maybe. I’ll see what Steve wants to do.”

Becca wiggled her eyebrows at him before blowing him a kiss and breezing away. Bucky watched her go with a soft chuckle and slight shake of his head. Typical Becca. He couldn’t shake what she’d said though, and thought back to breakfast, trying to remember if Steve had given him any looks worthy of note. Bucky realised he’d been too busy trying to avoid Becca’s eyes, or lost in his own thoughts to have really paid any attention. But even if Becca was right, Bucky wasn’t going to act on it. Steve needed a break, the last thing Bucky wanted to do was scare him away. If anything was going to happen – Bucky’s heart gave a little trill in his chest at the thought of that – it would have to be on Steve’s terms. He’d have to be the one to instigate it.


	10. Steve

The dining hall was very clearly closing. The waitstaff were busy clearing away everything from breakfast and trying to get the place cleaned and set for lunchtime. Steve was ready to accept the fact that they’d have to order room service again, or make do with bar snacks, when Bucky flashed a charming smile – something obviously put on, and nothing like any of the genuine smiles he’d given Steve yesterday – and the waitress was showing them to a table in the corner and taking their order. When she’d gone, Bucky deflated. His smile disappeared and he went back to squinting against the bright lights and keeping his mouth pressed into a narrow line. Steve knew a hangover when he saw one. To be fair to Bucky, and the amount he’d drunk yesterday, Steve was surprised he didn’t look worse for wear. Yes, he looked tired and a little drawn, his hair was a ruffled mess, and a dark shadow of scrub lined his jaw, but he wore it all very well. A stylised scruffiness, Steve thought. The type of look hair and make-up departments would spend hours cultivating on their edgy main character, and Bucky had literally just rolled out of bed. The thought made Steve smile.

“What?” Bucky wanted to know, squinting at him.

“Nothing.” Steve assured him. “I’m going to get some orange juice before they clear it away. Want anything?”

Bucky glanced over towards the buffet table. “Apple juice, if they have any.”

“Sure.”

Steve hovered around the waitstaff, apologising profusely as filled two glasses of juice, feeling large and clumsy as he tried to manoeuvre between them. He drained his glass on the spot and refilled it, feeling fresher and more awake, before hurrying back across to the table. Bucky was deep in conversation with his sister and someone Steve could only assume was Becca’s fiancée. Steve scooted around Becca to place the glasses on the table, only realising as he cut in that the conversation was far from as innocuous as he’d imagined.

“I was _worried_ –” Becca stopped mid-sentence to stare at Steve.

“Excuse me.” He felt awkward and intrusive, and did the only thing he could think of, holding out his hand to introduce himself properly. Becca gave him a very curious glare as she shook his hand. It was only to be expected; Steve was intruding on their wedding preparations. Whilst Bucky might not have thought his duties as brother-of-the-bride were that extensive, Steve should have realised Becca would have other ideas. Weddings did funny things to people. Steve had watched Peggy calmly deal with international crises without breaking a sweat, but the weeks leading up the wedding she’d been a bundle of nerves and stress. Of course, that could have just been because she didn’t want to get married…

Steve took his seat and tried to ignore the conversation that happened around him, fully aware that Becca was mouthing something behind his back (though judging from the adorably embarrassed look on Bucky’s face Steve figured it couldn’t be anything bad). He blushed into his glass of orange juice feeling a little like a schoolkid caught with a crush.

They ate in a comfortable silence. Steve was too emotionally exhausted to try and make conversation and thankfully Bucky seemed equally preoccupied. The thing was, last night had felt almost like a dream. Steve didn’t have deep, personal conversations with strangers on starlit beaches, that just wasn’t something that happened to him. He certainly didn’t fall asleep beside beautiful strangers and wake up with a contented thrum in his chest. But Bucky was right in front of him, real as anything; quietly stuffing his mouth full of bacon and drinking coffee like it was source of life itself. The scary thing was, Steve had opened up, let himself be vulnerable because he thought he was never going to see Bucky again - Bucky had seen him cry for fuck’s sake, bringing the number of people who had seen him cry up to a grand total of two. Yet here they were.

Bucky hadn’t seemed put off or perturbed, far from it; he’d gone out of his way to at least distract Steve, even if he couldn’t cheer him up. But he _had_ cheered him up. What should have been one of the loneliest, most depressing evenings of Steve’s life was now a fond memory. He stared at Bucky, watching him drizzle yet more maple syrup over the remnants of his pancakes. Bucky obviously sensed he was being watched because he glanced up and smirked. Steve couldn’t help but smile back. He knew in that moment what he’d been trying to deny all evening, that it would be very easy to fall in love with Bucky. 

And now they were sharing a hotel room for at least the next few days. Two weeks if Steve didn’t panic and bail early. It was a lot to take in.

Steve excused himself after breakfast with the pretext of getting changed for the pool, but once he’d locked the bedroom door behind him, he staggered to the bed and folded himself onto the edge. He dropped his head into his hands and let out a series of deep shuddering breaths. He felt anxious and guilty just at the possibility of Bucky. Wasn’t it too early to be entertaining the idea of liking someone else? Did that make him a bad person?

Steve’s phone buzzed on the bedside table, pulling him from his reverie. He reached for it, absently, and scrolled through the multiple notifications: two alerts about the missed alarm – which Steve glared at as he swiped to clear them – 48 emails from work that he tried to ignore, a weather warning for hail storms over the eastern seaboard, and 6 new messages from Sam. Steve opened up the conversation and scrolled back up to remind himself of where they’d left off.

**Steve**  
_Yesterday 3:59pm_ __ ✔✔  
This is a terrible idea. i’m coming home 

**Sam**  
_Yesterday 4:03pm_ _ ✔  
_ Yeah, man. Whatever you need to do.

**Steve**  
_Yesterday 4:27pm ✔✔_  
First flight is tomorrow morning. I’ll take the day and be back in work fri

**Sam** _Yesterday 4:29pm_ _ ✔ _  
Don’t rush. We’ve got it covered here. Take the weekend.

**Steve**  
_Yesterday 4:32pm_ _ ✔✔ _  
Think I could use the distraction tbh

**Sam**  
_Yesterday 4:36pm_ _ ✔ _  
There’s nothing to distract you out there? ;)

_Yesterday 7:22pm - unread_  
Okay, too soon to joke. Lmk if you need a lift from the airport.

_Today 6:49am - unread_  
What time’s your flight?

_Today 8:52am – unread_  
Loads of travel disruption in the NE this morning. Hope you’re not caught up in it.

_Today 9:46am – unread_  
I’m stuck in meetings all day (nothing you need to worry about) but can’t pick you up unless it’s after 6.

_Today 10:37am - unread_  
Okay. You’re either dead (in which case dibs on your motor bike) or travelling.

_Today 10:39am - unread_  
Text me when you land and we’ll go for drinks?

Steve suppressed a smile as he scrolled through Sam’s texts and tapped out a quick reply to let him know that he hadn’t died in a horrific plane crash.

**Steve**  
Hands off my bike. I’m alive. I’ve decided to stay for a few days.

The reply was almost instantaneous.

**Sam**  
Hallelujah (I’ll get that bike from you one day).

What changed your mind?

How to explain it succinctly?

**Steve**  
Someone talked some sense into me.

**Sam**  
Was it me? No, cant be. You never listen to me.

Whoever it was. They deserve a medal. Tell em thanks.

Steve smiled and drummed his fingers against his thigh, debating whether to tell Sam about Bucky; what would he even say?

**Steve**  
You know him actually. Sgt Barnes? 75th Rangers?

Steve tapped back; having picked up on Bucky’s surname over breakfast when he charged the cost to their room – overruling Steve’s offer to pick up the tab.

**Sam**  


JB! Good man. Yeah, if anyone could talk some sense into you it’d be him.

Say hi from me.

And tell him to keep that arm of his out of the sun?

**Steve**  
Will do.

Steve replied, not knowing what Sam meant about Bucky’s arm, and wondering how on earth you got ‘JB’ and ‘Bucky’ from the same name. Was it a middle name, perhaps? Steve’s phone buzzed again in his palm.

**Sam**  
See you in 2 weeks then?

**Steve**  
probably

**Sam**  


;)

Steve didn’t know what that was supposed to mean. He didn’t want to know. He locked his phone and dropped it on the bed, pushing himself to his feet and forcing himself through the motions of getting changed for the pool.

It was too soon, he decided as he smothered suntan lotion on his nose. Of course it was too soon. Even if he and Peggy were completely over – and there was no mistaking that (their argument in the chapel had left no room for misunderstanding on that front), even if Peggy had completely eviscerated his heart for all their friends and family to see, even if Steve had been left feeling like an utter fool; he couldn’t do that to Peggy’s pride. This was meant to have been their honeymoon. Hooking up with someone else seemed callous. Steve couldn’t hurt her like that, he’d loved her for too long, and some part of him was still hoping they could be friends again after all of this.

But that didn’t mean Steve couldn’t enjoy himself. He buttoned his shirt back on, picked up both his and Bucky’s phones, and checked his reflection in the mirror by the door to make he’d rubbed all of the sun tan lotion in. Bucky had been right; Steve needed a holiday, and right now a few days exploring the island with Bucky sounded like a perfect plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all of your comments!!!!  
Note: I've been trying to update this every other day and I've done pretty well so far, but work's getting busy again so updates might slow a bit in the next few days.  
I'm also upping my expected total to 30K+ because these guys refuse to acknowledge their feelings and make a move (I'm sorry!)


	11. Steve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (We see Bucky's scars in this chapter, so warning if that sort of thing affects you).

The view out across the bay was transformed in the daylight. Steve hadn’t given himself the chance to properly admire it the day before and as he stepped out onto the patio he stopped in his tracks to take it all in. An endless clear blue sky stretched out across waves that danced and sparkled like someone had put an Instagram filter over them; and palm tree fronds wafted gently in the breeze, shading part of the infinity pool which jutted out over the slight incline down to the beach. The place really was a tropical paradise.

Steve picked his way through the tables and chairs spilling from the bar out through the open archways, and squeezed between the sun loungers lined up in a neat row around two sides of the pool. Bucky was spread out on one partially in the shade with his head and torso covered by the shadow of a sun umbrella whilst his legs basked in the sunlight. The material of his swimming trunks was stretched taught across his muscular thighs and Steve had to make a concentred effort not to stare at the expanse of skin glistening under the sun. With Sam’s words ringing in his head, Steve couldn’t help but give a surreptitious glance at Bucky’s arms. The t-shirt Steve had lent him was a little too big on Bucky and the sleeves were large and loose, falling all the way down to his elbows. But his forearms were bare, and now that Steve was looking for something, he noticed a pair of thin silver scars that stretched down Bucky’s left forearm, one on either side. Souvenirs from some sort of injury, clearly, but it didn’t seem enough to warrant Sam’s concern. Maybe it was an inside joke.

Bucky was laid out so peacefully – eyes closed, head tipped back with a slack smile on his face – that Steve had assumed he was a sleep, but as Steve lingered over him, Bucky cracked open and eye and squinted up at him with a smile.

“Hey,” Bucky said, lifting his right hand to shield his eyes as he stared up at Steve.

“Hi.” Steve returned. “I brought your phone down.”

“Oh, thanks!” Bucky sat up to catch it. He glanced at it briefly before locking it and hiding under his towel.

“I spoke to Sam.” Steve said as he spread his towel out onto the lounger next to Bucky’s and kicked off his shoes. He didn’t bother to open out the sun umbrella over his chair. “He said to say hi.”

Bucky smiled at that.

“He, uh. Also said to keep your arm out of the sun.” Steve added, partly because he’d promised to, and partly because he was curious.

“Yeah. He would.” Bucky snorted. “I was gonna ask – you got any sunscreen I can borrow? I’m guessing you don’t want me to get this shirt wet –”

“I’d rather you didn’t.” Steve agreed.

“- and scars burn like a bitch.”

“Sure.” Steve was already handing over the bottle of sunscreen, but rather than taking it from him, Bucky stood up, stepped out from under the sun umbrella, and proceeded to pull the shirt off over his head.

Bucky was toned. The was Steve’s first impression. Slender, but strong, like a dancer or a middle-distance runner. The curve and swell of his biceps were striking and Steve wanted nothing more than to run his fingers, or maybe his tongue, over their contours.

Then he noticed the scars. They criss-crossed the entire upper half of Bucky’s left arm; reminding Steve of an ice rink after a particularly ferocious hockey match. Some of the scars were silvery and faded like the two on Bucky’s forearm, but plenty more were thick, red and hypertrophic. A few were clearly surgical, like the long red line that stretched down the front of his deltoid, and silver seam that traced his collar bone; whilst others were jagged and messily pinched together like they’d healed without much in the way of medical help.

Bucky was staring at Steve, waiting for his reaction, so Steve school his expression into something neutral; not wanting to betray either his surprise, nor how badly he was falling for Bucky. Steve didn’t care about the scars - not on any superficial level, Bucky was still one of the most beautiful people Steve had ever met – but he cared that Bucky had been injured, badly. He cared about the emotional scars that must have come with an injury like that, and hoped that Bucky wasn’t still hurting.

“War wounds?” he heard himself ask in a small voice.

“Yeah.”

Bucky hadn’t wanted to talk about his time in the army yesterday, so Steve didn’t ask how it had happened, though he wanted to. Desperately. Not from a sense of morbid curiosity, but because he wanted to know everything about Bucky. He wanted to know what had happened to him in the wars he’d fought, but he also wanted to know what his childhood had been like. What his favourite novel was, his hopes, and fears, and dreams, and regrets. Steve wanted to _know_ Bucky with an intense desire that he’d only experienced once or twice before. But he couldn’t ask. Not yet. Maybe not ever. Bucky had to want to tell him first. 

“Must have been painful.” He said instead.

“You have _no_ idea.” Bucky finally reached for the sunscreen. “Can you help with my back? I can’t really reach,” he gestured behind his back – or tried to, his left hand could barely reach back beyond his hip.

“Of course.” Steve let Bucky pour sunscreen into his hand and stepped behind him to gently rub it into Bucky’s shoulders. There were more scars here: a long white line tracking down Bucky’s shoulder blade and patches of shiny, scarred skin peppering his rib cage. Steve didn’t let his hands linger like he wanted to. Instead he kept his motions brisk and efficient as he made sure the scars were completely covered with the lotion.

“Thanks. Want me to get your back?”

“I already did mine.”

“Really?” Bucky smirked. “No one can get that bit between their shoulder blades properly. Let me.” He gestured for Steve to turn around, which he did, slowly; unbuttoning his shirt as he went. He shrugged it off and threw it on the sun lounger, not missing the way Bucky exhaled with a soft ‘_oof’_. It was Steve’s turn to smirk, but it was quickly replaced by a surprised gasp as he felt Bucky drizzling sunscreen directly onto his back; lots of it by the feel of the cool liquid dripping down between his shoulders.

“How much are you putting on?” he asked, trying to twist a see.

“Can’t let these lovely shoulders burn.” Bucky's voice radiated innocence, but when he began to rub the sunscreen in, Steve realised his motives were anything but. Unlike Steve, Bucky made no effort to keep his movements efficient. His hands swept across the length and breadth of Steve’s back, quickly losing any pretence of actually rubbing the sunscreen in and basically devolving into Bucky giving Steve a back rub. Steve couldn’t deny that it felt nice. How long had it been since someone had touched him like that? He and Peggy were never very tactile as a couple, and they’d both been so busy in the last few months that they hardly even seen each other, let alone been intimate.

“Wow, you’re tense.” Bucky said with his hands rubbing smooth circles into Steve’s shoulders.

“Nuhuh.” Steve replied eloquently, proud of himself for not actually letting out a moan.

“Becca gave me that massage receipt back. If you fancy it this afternoon. Feels like you could use one.” Bucky gave Steve’s shoulders a last comforting squeeze and then his hands were gone. Steve wobbled slightly, and found himself aching for Bucky’s touch. He collected himself, taking a few deep breaths before turning to face Bucky. Yes, a massage on the beach would be lovely. But it was a couple’s massage; the thought alone was enough to make him feel anxious and flighty again.

“It’s a _couple’s_ massage.” Steve objected.

“Yeah? Just means it’s for two people.” Bucky looked amused. “But if it’s too weird for you, I understand. I’m not above getting a couple’s massage on my own.”

“Then you’re a braver man than I.”

“Or I just care less about what people think.” Bucky smiled.

Steve dipped his head nodded. Both were true.

“Shall we swim?” Bucky inclined his head to the swimming pool and, without waiting for a reply, stepped up to the edge. “Race you to the other side?” he arched his arms over his head and Steve noticed that there was a definite kink in Bucky’s left shoulder, which seemed to bunch up by his neck rather than rotate like his right arm did – but when he dove in it was with a graceful ease. He was half way across the pool before Steve remembered it was supposed to be a race.

He dove in after Bucky, turning the world muffled and turquoise until he broke the surface and shook the water from his hair. Swimming was still a marvel for Steve. He’d gone swimming as a kid, sure, his mother had made sure he learnt how to swim in the lidos the opened up in Brooklyn in the summer, but with his asthma and ear problems as a child, swimming was never going to be a favourite pastime. He always preferred to be on the water rather than in it, even now he’d prefer to be in a shell or a boat. But there was something undeniably calming about gliding weightlessly through the water. It took a few strokes to find a rhythm, and then he was cutting across the pool in a lazy front crawl to catch up with Bucky who was already sprawled against the far side.

“Beat you.” He beamed.

“You had a head start,” Steve sent a small wave of water splashing in Bucky’s direction.

“Touché. Race you back? Three-two-one-go.” Bucky said in a rush, pushing himself off the side before Steve was remotely ready. He sped ahead, slipping effortless through the water like he was part fish to win, again; but Steve was closer this time.

They spent most of the morning splashing around in the pool, annoying the more sophisticated resort guests who were trying to sunbathe around them. Steve felt like almost like a kid again, carefree and content as they raced, wrestled, and splashed. At some point Becca and Robert joined them, and before Steve could process what was happening, Bucky was climbing up onto Steve’s shoulders to play a game of chicken. Bucky hooked his legs under Steve’s armpits and Steve’s hands found their way to Buck’s thighs, holding tight and standing steady on slippery tiles of the pool floor as Bucky tried to knock Becca from Robert’s shoulders.

Bucky’s legs flexed and shifted as he moved, and, _oh god_, Steve groaned as Bucky clamped his thighs around tightly around Steve’s neck to stop himself from falling off; this week was going to be the death of him.


	12. Bucky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Couples Massage :D

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay between chapters! This one's extra long to make up for it <3 Thanks for all of your comments!!!!

Bucky had meant it when he told Becca he would wait for Steve to make the first move. He honestly had. But then he saw Steve standing over him, bathed in sunlight with an unmistakable look of want in his eyes, and Bucky’s resolve crumbled. Bucky wasn’t going to kiss him or anything, Steve really would have to make the first move on that front – but there was nothing to say Bucky couldn’t help convince Steve to make a move; nothing to say that Bucky couldn’t be a bit of a tease.

He let his hands sweep across Steve’s back with a liberal application of sunscreen, marvelling at Steve’s sculpted muscles and taking more time to massage Steve’s trapezius muscles than was entirely necessary. The man was _built_, and he carried it well. Not like the pumped up body builders Bucky steered clear of in the gym; on Steve all of that bulk looked natural – and useful, like that’s just how his body was supposed to be. Some sort of pinnacle of human physicality, carved by one of the great renaissance sculptures themselves. Once Bucky had reduced Steve to an incoherent wreck, he gave a delighted smirk and quickly pulled his hands back, suggesting they swim instead. To his credit, Steve recovered quickly, and he was soon giving Bucky a run for his money as he put those muscles to good use, racing Bucky up and down the pool. 

Bucky caught Steve giving a few less-than-sneaky glances at his shoulder, but Steve didn’t bring it up after his initial questions, and he didn’t ask how it had happened. Bucky couldn’t thank him enough for that. That was all everyone normally wanted to know – they just wanted the gory details, voyeurs for human pain and suffering – and Bucky was fed up of rehashing his history. That was what he hated most about the scars. He didn’t care what they looked like, he actually kind of liked how tough they made him look; but he hated the fact that he would never truly be able to move on from what happened – not when he was reminded every time he looked in the mirror, or every time a stranger saw his shoulder.

Steve _wanted_ to know, Bucky could read the concern and curiosity in his gaze, but he also took care not to make it big deal; treating Bucky the same as he had before he’d seen the scars and not shying away from grabbing that arm as he sabotaged Bucky’s attempts to win the fourth consecutive race. It was the latest in long line of reasons why Bucky was quickly falling for Steve, and by the time Becca and Robert joined them in the pool Bucky was seriously struggling not to throw caution to wind, and just pull Steve in for a kiss.

It was Becca who suggested they play chicken, giving Bucky a devilish smirk as she did. Bucky didn’t protest. He climbed onto Steve’s shoulders and his stomach gave a swoop of delight as Steve lifted him effortlessly out of the water, standing unwavering and firm as though Bucky weighed nothing at all. Bucky knocked Becca from Robert’s shoulders with ease, and quickly agreed they should play best-of-three. After a struggle – clenching his thighs around Steve’s neck to hold himself steady and loving the hitch in Steve’s breath that caused – Bucky let himself tumble into the water purely so they could play another round.

They won the third, easily, and Steve carried Bucky round the pool in a lap of honour before throwing him unceremoniously in the deep end.

“Oi!” Bucky surfaced, spluttering, and wasted no time dragging Steve down with him.

By the time the four of them retired for lunch, dining under the shade of an umbrella on the patio tables, they were all at ease in each other’s company and there was none of the awkwardness that could have followed the chaos at breakfast. Steve charmed Becca and Robert like Bucky knew he would, and soon they'd all planned to meet up for dinner again that evening. Becca and Rob disappeared off to explore the rest of the resort, looking for the tennis courts and mini golf, and Bucky made his way down to the beach with Steve to sunbathe and let their lunch go down before it was time for the couples massage.

The beach looked completely different in the daylight. A swathe of golden sand curved around the bay shaded on one side by tall green palm trees, and sheltered by a rocky outcrop on the other. Impossibly blue waves lapped gently on the shore, sprinkling the sand with bubbles of white foam, that popped and disappeared as soon as the water retreated. A thick band of cloud bulged on the horizon but the skies overhead were bright blue and crystal clear. Bucky noted that bar was still open, still serving overly alcoholic drinks, but the tables and chairs from last night had been replaced with neat rows of sun loungers and more hammocks. A structure shrouded in soft floaty drapes which he hadn’t noticed in yesterday’s gloom stood at the far end of the beach; Bucky assumed that’s where the massage would be.

He had to admit he was pretty excited about it, Bucky had never had a proper massage before. Alright, he'd had some sports therapy sessions during the rehabilitation with his shoulder, which Bucky supposed _might_ count. But he’d been so hopped up on pain killers throughout those sessions - lying on crinkly paper that covered a medical bench whilst a stern faced physiotherapist manipulated his shoulder until Bucky was practically crying – he hoped that it wasn’t going to be the same experience. The massage cabana with floaty white drapes, soft looking beds and views out over the ocean seemed idyllic; he didn't understand Steve's apprehension.

"Mr Rogers, welcome." One of the masseuses greeted them. There were two of them, in matching white uniforms with matching customer-service smiles. "Are you enjoying your honeymoon so far?"

Ah. That would be why. Steve stilled and Bucky could see him fighting the urge to turn and flee. Bucky instinctively reached out to give Steve's hand a squeeze, and said the only thing he could think of which would avoid a slew of awkward questions.

"Yes, thank you, we are." Bucky smiled brightly at the masseuse.

"Excellent. Shirts off, please, then hop up onto the tables." She instructed them. "We have the full body massage booked for you both, is that correct?"

Bucky glanced at Steve who was still standing stock still, looking like he couldn't fathom what was going on. So Bucky answered again, not really sure what he was agreeing to.

"Yes, please."

"Is this your first time staying with us as Juniper Bay Resort?" The masseuse tried to make light conversation as Bucky settled onto the table.

"Yeah,"

"Is everything to your satisfaction so far?"

"Yeah. It's been great."

"Apart from the room mix up," Steve recovered and quickly pulled his shirt over his head, not bothering to undo the buttons this time. It was a surprisingly attractive move. Bucky swallowed and tried to remember what they were talking about. Right, the room mix up. How had he forgotten about that?

“Oh yeah, apart from that.”

Steve gave Bucky a funny little smile as he climbed onto the other bed, resting his chin on the padded headrest and folding his arms in front of his head.

"I'm so sorry to hear that!"

"It's alright. We sorted it." Steve twisted his head slightly to give Bucky another smile.

Bucky was going to say something snappy in response but he was cut off by the sensation of warm liquid on his back, followed immediately by a pair of strong hands that began to work it into his muscles. The feeling was so alarming that Bucky couldn't help but give a startled gasp, which very quickly turned into a moan as the hands worked over the sensitive patch beneath his shoulder blades.

Bucky pressed his head into the mattress to try and muffle the sounds, flushing red with embarrassment. To make it worse, Steve was laughing at him. 

"I'm so sorry!" Bucky gasped. 

"That's quite alright, Mr Rogers," 

"Bucky! Bucky. My name is Bucky." He protested quickly. Pretending they were honeymooning was one thing, being called Mr Rogers was quite another. 

"It's a perfectly natural response." The masseuse tried to assure Bucky, though judging from the way Steve continued to laugh, Bucky didn't think it was. He tensed, waiting for the next brush of hands across his back. 

"Try to relax, sir," the masseuse told him, clearly unwilling to use the name more informal name Bucky had provided. 

Bucky tried to let go, tried to relax into the sensations of the massage, but he found another moan escaping his lips as soon as he did. _Oh fuck. _Why had he ever thought this was a going to be a good idea?

"I don't think I can do this," he mumbled into the mattress. 

"Sure you can." Steve's voice sounded soothing. Grounding, even. Bucky focused on Steve’s voice and the masseuse’s hands managed to prod under Bucky’s shoulder blades without drawing another noise from him. He turned his head and risked a glance across at Steve. He looked so at ease; stretched out of the bed, muscles glistening with the massage oil. Why wasn't he a moaning wreck too? Hadn't he almost fallen to pieces when Bucky was sun-screening him earlier? 

"Distract me?" Bucky asked, pleaded really. 

"How?" 

"Tell me a story?" 

The masseuse’s hands pressed deep into the muscles just above Bucky tail bone and he pressed his eyes closed with a little fluttering exhale. 

"Okay.” Steve laughed at him. He pursed his lips in thought for a moment before lighting on something that made him smile again. “When I was little, I used to think the fourth of July fireworks were just for me." 

“Really?” Bucky forced himself to relax into the mattress, focusing on Steve’s voice rather than the hands prodding at his sides.

“Yeah, it was my birthday. My ma said she’d pulled some strings and it was a special treat to celebrate. And, as you do when you’re a kid, I believed her. Believed her for longer than I’m proud of,” Steve added with a huff of laughter.

“How old?” Bucky managed as to ask as the masseuse ran their hands up Bucky’s legs, kneading into his thighs and getting dangerously high.

“Twelve.”

“Twelve?!”

“I wanted to believe her. That was the thing. We’d always watch them together. No matter how hectic her schedule was, or how crazy the shifts were at the hospital, she always managed to take that evening off. We’d go up onto the roof of our building with deck chairs and blankets – and cake. She always made the most amazing cakes, decorated with my latest obsession: toy story, harry potter…one year she even recreated _Starry Night_; it looked almost too good to eat. I don’t know how she did, where she found the time. We’d sit up on the roof together watching the fireworks and eating far more cake than is advisable in one sitting.”

“Sounds lovely,” Bucky breathed out slowly as the masseuse worked his calf muscles. He could almost picture it, sitting alongside the water tank and ventilation shafts, looking out across the low Brooklyn rooftops towards the towering buildings of Manhattan, watching the sky come alive with bright bursts of colour.

“It was.” He sounded wistful. “The year she died I couldn’t bring myself to acknowledge the fireworks. The fact that they still happened without her seemed wrong, and unfair. I,” he took a shaky breath that Bucky suspected had little to do with the massage, and readjusted his chin on the padded rest. “I stayed in bed all day, headphones in, blankets pulled up to my eyes. Just waiting for the day to be over. I haven’t spent the fourth in New York since. Uh.” He cleared his throat. “Sorry. That story took a turn for the worse.”

“It’s alright.” Bucky wanted to reach over and give Steve a comforting touch, a squeeze of his hand, a pat on the shoulder, a hug maybe, but his arm was currently occupied by strong fingers prodding and poking at his biceps and working out knots Bucky didn’t even know he had. “Go on?”

“Peggy liked to go back to England once a year, so we usually went that week. Can’t get much further from independence day than going back to England,” Steve laughed but it sounded a little bitter. The masseuse was currently blocking Bucky’s view so he couldn’t see what sort of expression Steve was wearing. “We’d walk around stately homes or trek through the country side, stop in a village pub for a cream tea or a pint and a packet of crisps…not sure what I’m going to do this year.”

“You’ll find something.” Bucky promised. The masseuse stepped out of the way and Bucky finally saw Steve’s broken, crestfallen face. He couldn’t hold back any longer, reaching between the beds to find Steve’s arm, Bucky gave it a comforting squeeze.

“Can you roll onto your back now sir?” the masseuse asked, completely breaking the moment.

“What?” Bucky was caught off guard.

“If you turn onto your back, we can continue.”

Bucky snatched his hand back and tensed. What? Roll onto his back? That definitely sounded like something he couldn’t cope with. Bucky rolled off the table instead and stood up, feeling loose limbed, wobbly, and little weightless. “Er. No. No thanks. I think that’s enough of a massage for me today.”

“Are you sure, sir?” The masseuse asked at the same time Steve called out, “Bucky, you okay?”

“Yeah, sorry.” He apologised to both of them as he staggered away from the table.

“Sir?”

“Bucky?”

Bucky didn’t expect Steve to follow, but he was relieved when Steve hopped down from his own table – thanking both of the masseuses, and apologising for Bucky’s abrupt departure – to join him on the beach.

“Are you alright?” Steve caught up with Bucky and placed a comforting hand in the small of his back. Bucky wanted to curl into Steve and hide his face in Steve’s chest, feeling so embarrassed. Who else got that flustered from a fucking massage?

“Sorry,” Bucky apologised. “I wasn’t prepared for that.”

“For what?” Steve was laughing softly at him again. “They were only going to massage your shoulders from a different angle, and maybe get your quads.”

“Yeah. No way.” Bucky absolutely was not prepared for hands that high on the front of his thighs, especially not with Steve lying that close next to him. “Sorry.” He dragged a hand through his hair and tried to put on a confident air to mask how much of an idiot he felt.

“’s’okay. Massages aren’t for everyone.” Steve didn’t look as put out as Bucky had been expecting. They’d barely used half their time, after all.

“I’m so embarrassed.”

“Don’t be.” Steve assured him, he rubbed his hand in a small circle before pulling it away. Maybe it was because he was so wrung out from the massage, but Bucky ached for the touch. He wondered if maybe it would have felt better if Steve had been massaging him, rather than a stranger.

“Thank you, for distracting me. I’m sorry about your mom.” He said tentatively. He didn’t particularly want up to bring up a sore subject, but he couldn’t just leave their conversation like they had.

“Me too. She deserved so much better.” Steve’s shoulders slumped.

Bucky didn’t press further, not right then. Not when they were meant to be enjoying a relaxing afternoon on the beach, and not with the ocean calling to him. “Let’s swim?”

“Now?”

“Yeah, I could float for a bit. Come on.”

Leaving his things dumped on the beach, and not waiting for Steve’s response, Bucky ran into the waves. He let the water splash around his legs until it lapped at his hips before he twisted onto his back and fell backwards into the sea. Bucky had always been able to just float. He folded his arms under his head, stretched his legs and crossed his ankles, letting the buoyant salt water keep him afloat with absolute minimal effort; it was bliss. Steve followed him in at a more sensible pace, wading through the waves until it was deep enough to lean forwards into a few graceful breast strokes. He swam around Bucky and leant back to test his own ability to float, promptly sinking completely under the water.

“How are you doing that?” Steve spluttered, shaking out the water from his hair. His blonde bangs ended up flicked over his head in a funny cowlick.

“Magic,” Bucky beamed back. “It’s so peaceful out here, I think I want to stay forever.”

“Hmmm.” Steve agreed. He took to swimming slow laps around Bucky, alternating between being on his front and back, never straying too far.

“I hope you didn’t mind earlier, when I, uh – pretended we were,” Bucky trailed off; not wanting to say it outright, still unsure how Steve had felt about pretending they were on their honeymoon. “I thought it was the easiest way to avoid awkward questions.”

“Oh. Yeah. It was. Good thinking.” Steve stopped swimming and carded his fingers through his hair, giving Bucky a shy smile.

“If there’s anything else you’ve booked that you don’t want to miss out on,” Bucky pressed on, despite the nerves jostled in his stomach and threatening to make him loose his balance. “I wouldn’t mind filling in.”

“Oh really?”

“Yeah, if you’d be okay with that.” Bucky let his legs sink until he was standing upright, toes just brushing the sand on the sea bed. The gentle swell of the sea tugged him closer to Steve. It would have been so easy to let the water bring them together.

“What time’s the rehearsal dinner tomorrow?”

“7.30, I think?” the question caught Bucky a little by surprise. “Why?”

“I was planning to hire a boat and take it up the coast tomorrow, there’s some sea caves I wanted to see.” Steve was staring right at Bucky and that look of want was back in his eyes. By now Bucky was pretty sure that Steve liked him back, and it took every reserve of will power to float back a little and preserve the distance between them.

“Sea caves?” he asked, almost in an exhale.

“Yeah, meant to be real pretty.”

“I’d like to see that.”

“Alright.”

Bucky tore his eyes way from Steve’s bright blue gaze to glance at Steve’s lips. They were right there. All he had to do was lean.

Just as Bucky’s resolve was about to give out, thunder boomed behind them.

“What the hell?” Bucky span around to see the clouds that had looked so far away earlier were right on top of them. He’d heard tropical storms moved in quickly when they came, but he still hadn’t been expecting it to be that fast.

“Should we…get out of the water?”

“Only if there’s lightning,” Bucky swam closer to Steve, trying to recreate the moment which was so hastily slipping away from them. No sooner had he spoken, than lightning crackled across the sky, followed immediately by another boom of thunder. “Yup, that’s our cue to get out.”

They scrambled for the shore, splashing through the shallows and staggering through the wet sand. Thick heavy drops of rain began to fall from the sky, picking up intensity at a rapid pace. They’d barely bundled their belongings into their arms before the heavens opened and they were being pelted by a torrent of warm rain. Bucky had to laugh as he raced Steve back up to the path to the shelter of the hotel. Cockblocked by the weather. Fucking typical.


	13. Bucky

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for a mild dissociative episode from Bucky and mentions of PTSD.

The wind picked up as they hurried up the path from the beach. Soon the rain was slanting sideways. The palm trees began to sway and the sun umbrellas struggled against the gusts, threatening to turn inside out before the bar staff could bundle them away. Steve and Bucky hurried through the archways behind the rest of the bedraggled crowd from the beach, but whilst everyone else settled down for a drink inside the bar, or hurried back to their rooms to get dry, Steve dropped his belongings on the first chair inside the door and immediately hurried back outside.

“Steve?” Bucky faltered. He dropped his bundled up towel, phone and shirt on top of Steve’s and followed after him, hesitantly. He had to squint through the rain that pelted the patio, but it didn’t take him long to spot Steve helping the staff collapse the umbrellas and bundle them into the store room. Of course he was. Bucky ran through the rain to pitch in.

They’d barely got the patio furniture locked away in the store room when the wind kicked up a gear. The palm trees were tossed around like inflatables outside a car dealership, and the rain hammered on the pool with a ferocity Bucky had never seen before. It was humbling, standing in the face of the full force of nature, under a torrent of warm rain that felt a little like standing in a high pressure shower – if the shower happened to be in a wind tunnel. The roar of the storm was getting deafening, rolling thunder boomed almost constantly whilst lightning pulsed inside the clouds on the horizon; illuminating the billowing formations with flashed of purple, silver and gold. Bucky was already drenched to the bone and it was tempting to stand outside and watch the lightshow. Tempting, but not particularly safe. Everyone else had already hurried into the shelter of the hotel.

“Bucky, we need to get inside.” Steve’s voice was almost lost about the din of the rain and thunder but his hand found Bucky’s elbow and gave an insistent tug towards the door.

Bucky turned to face Steve. His hair was plastered to his head and his eyes were squinting through the sheeting rain, yet he still looked golden against the gloom. His hand was a comforting presence on Bucky’s elbow and as Bucky gazed up at Steve static thrummed between them that had nothing to do with the electrical storm.

Steve was staring right at Bucky, who knew he must look like a drowned rat. Unlike Steve he didn’t just glow without taking meticulous care to preen his appearance. But Steve swallowed and his grip on Bucky’s elbow tightened. Despite the storm raging around them, Bucky found himself rising onto his tiptoes and leaning in towards Steve’s lips.

Steve hesitated. Such a miniscule movement, but it was enough to break the moment. He gave Bucky the gentlest of nudges by the elbow to hold him back and Bucky instantly fell to the flats of his feet. Rejection, humiliation, guilt, and regret all swirled in Bucky’s gut for one horrible moment before Steve croaked, “Not yet.”

It was barely a whisper. If Bucky couldn’t read lips he wouldn’t have caught it at all. Steve gave a warm smile and kept his hand gripped tight around Bucky’s elbow. _Not yet_. Not an outright ‘no’. Not a rejection. Just _not yet_. Bucky’s heart swelled.

“We need to get inside.” Steve repeated, this time using his grip on Bucky’s arm to drag him back into the hotel. The staff closed up the arched windows and locked the storm shutters immediately behind them.

For a moment all they could do was stare at each other, radiating pent up adrenaline and dipping all over the hotel’s marble floors. Bucky allowed himself to hope that the ‘not yet’ might purely have been until they got inside, but Steve finally removed his hand and dragged it through his hair to send the worst of the rain running down his back rather than straight into his eyes.

“Want a drink?”

Yes. _God_. Bucky could use a drink. “Only if you’re paying,” he smirked to mask the butterflies in his stomach.

“’course I am.” Steve grinned back.

Bucky gathered his belongings from the chair and used his towel to try and discretely tried to dry himself off as much as possible before taking a seat beside Steve at the bar. He sat intentionally close, letting their thighs brush together. Steve didn’t shift away which Bucky took as a good sign.

“What’ll you have?” Steve asked, gesturing for the attention of the bar tender.

“Hmm. I think I fancy a mojito.”

Steve gave him a strange look.

“What?” Bucky asked through a laugh.

“Nothing. It’s just. I’m trying to work out your favourite drink, but you’ve ordered something completely different each time.” Steve smiled shyly before turning his attention to the bar man to order their drinks – a beer for Steve and a mojito for Bucky.

Bucky was touched by Steve’s thoughtfulness and a little stumped, he hadn’t realised Steve had been paying so much attention.

“I don’t do favourites,” he managed once his brain kicked back into gear.

“Oh?”

“Depends entirely on what I’m in the mood for.”

“Sounds like a good way to live.” Steve smiled at him.

“Yep. Spent too long in the army being told exactly what to eat and drink. And when.” Bucky began to explain, as if he needed an explanation. “And what to wear and where to be and where to go.” Sometimes he missed the structure and the simple monotony of following orders - the only way he’d coped after being discharged was thanks to the strict structure of his daily physio routine – and sometimes the sheer amount of choices on offer were enough to overwhelm him; but Bucky dealt with that by ordering whatever caught his eye or sprang to mind first, and not letting himself spiral into indecision. “But I have a sweet tooth.” He added. “Anything sugary, or chocolatey. Or alcoholic – I’ll love it.”

“Duly noted.” Steve smiled, handing Bucky’s drink over to him. Their fingers brushed and when Steve let his hand come to a rest on the bar top it was a hair’s breadth from Bucky’s.

They stayed close, far more tactile with each other than they had been the day before. When Bucky made Steve laugh, Steve threw an arm out to clasp Bucky’s shoulder, and when they turned towards each other, so engrossed in their conversation that the noise of the bar fell away, their knees slotted between each other like it was the most natural thing in the world. Bucky felt a little like he was floating.

He knew it was too good to last. The spell was broken when Steve’s phone began to hop and vibrate on the bar top in front of them. Steve’s face blanched as he picked it up and stared at the contact name.

“Do you have to take it?” Bucky asked.

“Uh, yeah. It’s Peggy.”

“Go.” Bucky urged gently.

“Sorry,” Steve sounded a little distracted as he untangled his legs from Bucky’s and stood up, answering the call as he staggered away from the bar. “Hi Peggy,”

Bucky didn’t miss the soft tenderness in Steve’s voice and he didn’t pretend it didn’t hurt.

He turned back to his drink, stirring the straw through the rapidly melting ice cubes. When the bar tender offered him a refill Bucky didn’t need to be asked twice.

=

“Mr Barnes?”

Bucky’s elbows were propped on the bar with his chin resting in his hands. His second drink was all but drunk and Steve still hadn’t returned.

“Excuse me, sir?” the bar man asked again, pulling Bucky from his daze.

“Sorry. Yeah?” he sat up slightly startled.

“There’s a message for you from reception. Your suitcases have been delivered from the airport.”

Finally some good news.

“Do you want them taken up to your room?”

Bucky glanced at the empty seat beside him. There was no point sitting here moping and waiting for Steve. “Nah, it’s okay. I’ll take them up. Can you. Uh.” He gestured to Steve’s spot. “When he gets back, tell him I went back up to the room?”

“Certainly.”

“Thanks.”

Bucky swiped up his phone towel and shirt and crossed the floor to the reception.

He arranged for Becca and Rob’s bags to be delivered up to room 701 and hopped into the lift with his own, gripping the handle tightly like it might disappear again at any moment. It looked a little more battered than it had when it went onto the plane, but nothing was split and when he opened it on the bed he was relieved to see nothing looked too squished or rumpled. He hurried to hang up his suits for the rehearsal dinner and the wedding itself, but kept the rest of it folded in the suitcase itself – he never understood people who unpacked into hotel rooms. You just had to re-pack it all again a week or so later. He’d spent long enough living out of footlockers and kit bags to know the merit of keeping everything neatly stowed and ready to go.

That done, Bucky found he was at a loss for what to do next. The mixture of salt and rain water and had dried on Bucky’s skin with an unpleasant stickiness so he decided to shower and change into more suitable clothes for dinner; taking time to shave off his stubble and properly style his hair. Even after all of that, Steve hadn’t re-appeared.

Bucky checked his phone to see a million heart-eyed and relieved emojis from Becca at the news that the bags had turned up, and one confirming that they were still on for dinner at 7pm. It was a little after 5pm. Bucky had two hours to kill, and an onset of listless apathy that threatened to overwhelm him if he did nothing to kill it. With Steve still missing, Bucky didn’t fancy sitting down in the bar by himself. Instead, he flung open he drapes to reveal the thunder grey skies outside and dragged the arm chair across the floor until it was pressed right up against the window. He left his phone on charge by the bed and shoved his wireless headphones over his ears, curling up in the chair with his feet tucked underneath him and his forehead pressed against the glass.

Lightning cracked soundlessly across the sky and rivulets of water chased each other down the window pane. The trees strewn across the island slopes below him swayed violently in the rushing wind, dancing along to the beat that pounded into Bucky’s eardrums.

He’d only meant to loose himself for a few minutes before grabbing a book or texting Becca and Rob for some company, but when he was startled by a knock on the door a little while later, Bucky was surprised to see the LED clock on the desk displaying 18:58. Where had the time gone?

Bucky unfurled his legs and padded across to open the door, already knowing it would be Becca from her tell-tale triple knock and the persistent hammering that followed when he didn’t immediately open the door.

“Dinner?” she smiled brightly. Peering behind him into the room.

When Bucky stepped back to fetch his shoes and phone Becca followed him in, poking around the corners of the room.

“Wow, we really lucked out with the upgrade, didn’t we?”

“It wasn’t an _upgrade_,” Bucky mumbled, leaning over to tie the laces on his sneakers.

“Right, right.” Becca waved away the semantics. “We really do need to thank Steve properly. Where is he?”

“Had to take a call.” Bucky straightened up, but remained sitting on the foot of the bed staring out of the window.

“You okay?”

Bucky brought his right hand up to rub at his eyes and sighed, long and slow. “I lost time again today.” He owned up. The mattress dipped as Becca sat beside him.

“How long?”

“Coup’la hours.” It hadn’t felt like a true dissociative episode, but then again – they never really did. “I sat down to watch them storm. Then. You were knocking on the door.” He’d had no recollection of the music he’d listened to or any particular thoughts which had crossed his mind. Not even the annoying spotify adverts had managed to pull him from his reverie, and that was the supposed to be whole point of opting for the free account; their jarring discord normally stopped Bucky from spiralling into the abyss of his mind. It scared him, he hadn’t had an episode in _months_, he stupidly thought he was passed all that.

“It _is_ a pretty mesmerising storm,” Becca said gently, trying to lighten the mood before adding seriously, “we’ll keep an eye on it, okay?”

It. The PTSD which Bucky hated admitting he had. The way he, Becca and Rob talked about it made it sound like an unruly pet at times.

“Okay.”

Becca reached out to give Bucky’s hand a squeeze, leaning up against his arm and resting her head in the crook of his shoulder.

“Love you.”

“Love you more.” He returned, planting his chin on top of her head and noticing her hair once again smelled like the vanilla scented shampoo she normally used. “Your hair smells nice.” It smelled comforting, it smelled like Becca, like home.

“I’m so glad I got my shampoo back. And my clothes, and y’know. My dress.”

“Was it all okay?”

“Yeah, the dress is a little creased from being folded for so long.” she sighed. “But luckily we have _two_ bathrooms in our mega-amazing suite. So I can hang it in the other one and steam it with the shower without Rob seeing. Speaking of whom,” she freed herself from Bucky and sat up. “We should probably go and rescue him from the horror of being sat in the restaurant on his own. You know how much he hates that.”

“Very true.” Bucky let Becca pull him to his feet.

“Do we need to wait for Steve?”

Bucky hesitated before answering. Did they? Bucky didn’t know where Steve was and felt guilty that he’d let two hours elapse without trying to look for him. He couldn’t possibly still be on the phone, could he? Bucky hoped he was okay. “I dunno. He knows where we’ll be. He can join us when he’s free.”

“Alright then.”

Becca looped her arm through Bucky’s and steered him down the corridor towards the elevators, which Bucky was quite grateful for. His thoughts were a mess and concentrating on where he was walking was the least of his concerns.

“As much as I love a good storm, I hope it lets up soon.” Becca chatted as they walked. “Don’t know how our bags got through it.”

“They must’ve been here before it struck.” Bucky replied, preoccupied.

“Probably – can’t see how they’d be running the ferries in that weather. Do you think they’ve closed the airport? I just hope it clears before tomorrow, otherwise I don’t know how the others are gonna get here. Tropical storms are meant to blow over quickly, aren’t they?”

“Yeah.” Bucky sounded lacklustre.

“Hey.” Becca gave Bucky’s arm a soft pat with her free hand. “You’re going to be okay – one episode isn’t a setback, it’s normal. You know what all the doctors said.”

Bucky nodded. The truth was that was only part of his worry. Perhaps it should have been higher on his list, but Bucky had coped with worse dissociation before. He’d done it once, he could get through it again. Right then Bucky was more concerned about Steve, and how he was coping with whatever had been said on that phone call.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They were so close! But Steve still needs time to figure everything out. They'll get there eventually....(sorry!)
> 
> Also turns out Bucky has less of a handle on his ptsd then I'd intended (sorry about that too!). It won't be too much of an issue - this is still meant to be a mostly fluffy fic after all, but it will crop up again. 
> 
> Thanks for all of your comments! <3


	14. Steve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning, this is a very Peggy centric chapter and it's not all that happy. There'll be more fluffy stevebucky content in the next chapter I promise (I was trying to get there with this one, but it already wound up being too long, sorry!!!!). I also want to preference this by saying that I normally love Peggy, but obviously things have to not work out between her and Steve in this fic. I've been struggling with how to write this conversation between them all week without making either one look too bad and trying not to wreck their characters (hopefully I've not done too bad a job...)
> 
> As always thank you for all of your feedback onthis fic! I really love reading all of your comments, thank you so much <333

Steve’s phone lit up with an incoming phone call and began to hop and buzz on the counter. He reached for it instinctively and found himself staring at the screen, unable to answer it. Peggy’s bright eyed smile stared back at him, unassuming and innocent compared to knot of unease it lodged in Steve’s chest.

“Do you have to take it?” Bucky asked, soft and curious.

“Uh,” Steve faltered. “Yeah. It’s Peggy.” Why was she calling him? Why now? Was everything okay?

“Go.” Bucky urged Steve gently. It wasn’t permission, not exactly, but it was the word Steve needed to hear to be able to swipe his thumb and answer the call.

“Sorry.” Steve shot Bucky a distracted apology as he clambered up from the barstool, twisting away from the bar and hurrying to find a quiet corner of the lobby. “Hi Peggy.”

“Hi Steve. I’m glad you answered. I didn’t know if you’d actually pick up and I wasn’t looking forward to leaving you a voicemail.” She sounded forthright as always.

“Everything okay?” Steve found an empty corridor that led to who-knew-where and slotted himself into an alcove along the wall, clutching his phone to his ear and pretending his hand wasn’t shaking slightly.

“I’m fine. How are you holding up?”

How indeed? Steve glanced back down the corridor to where he knew Bucky was sitting at the bar, even if he couldn’t see him anymore. He smiled involuntarily. “I’m doing okay, actually. Better than expected.”

“That’s good.”

“How did it go with your family?”

“They’ve all gone home now, thank god – and they took it better than I expected to be perfectly honest. They were angry, as you can understand – I did drag them half way around the world for nothing – but they weren’t as upset? or disappointed? as I’d thought they would be.”

“They were probably relieved.” Steve huffed a laugh under his breath and carded a hand through his still damp hair. “They always hated me.”

“That’s not fair. They didn’t hate you.”

“No, they definitely did.”

Peggy’s father had made it clear on several occasions that Steve wasn’t good enough for Peggy, and when Steve had given her parents the courtesy of letting them know he was planning to propose, they’d voiced their concerns. They’d respect Peggy’s decision if she really did want to marry Steve, but they were sure to let Steve know that he wasn’t their first, second, third, or even fifth choice.

“You always do that.” Peggy gave an exasperated sigh. “You always put the onus on them. Maybe if you’d been less guarded and let them get to know you better, they might have liked you more.”

Steve had to restrain himself from snorting out loud. Nothing in the world could have made Peggy’s family like him more – not unless he changed his entire upbringing, heritage, and political world views. He used his free hand to pinch the bridge of his nose. “I trust you didn’t call me to re-hash this old argument?”

“No. Sorry. I went to the bank today to separate our account and I moved all of the bills and rent into my name – I assume you’re still happy for me to keep the apartment?”

‘Happy’ was a strong word, but it made the most sense. “It’s the logical thing to do.” Steve agreed. “It was always more your apartment than mine.”

“It was always _our_ apartment, Steve.” Peggy retorted – it was another touchy subject between them – before she added more softly, “Is that really how you felt?”

“It doesn’t matter now.” Steve could only sigh. Eleven years of being devoted to loving and knowing one person, trying to build a future together…none of it mattered anymore. 

“No I suppose it doesn’t.” Peggy went quiet for a spell. “Well,” she pressed, “I’ve started to pack up your things. I’ll leave them boxed up in the lounge. You can collect them when you’re back in the country – how is the resort by the way?”

“Really great. You’d have loved it.”

“I’m sure I would have.” Steve could hear the smile in Peggy’s voice. “There’s no rush to collect everything, I’m actually going to Paris for a few weeks with work. Daniel and I have been called in to coordinate a committee with Interpol so I’ll be away for three weeks from next Tuesday. Take your time, and if you need to stay here until you get settled, do – I’m not going to kick you out or anything.”

“That would actually be really helpful.” Steve hadn’t even started to look for new apartments yet. It seemed a little unfair that he was the one being made to pack up and leave when she’d been the one to end things, but…like he’d told Bucky, DC never really felt like home. Some part of him was actually relieved he could start looking for an apartment that would feel more like it belonged to him. 

“Great.” Peggy went quiet again, Steve waited for her to speak. She was the one who’d called him after all. “Um, what I actually called you about was. Well. There’s really no easy way to say this.” She faltered again.

It was so unlike her to be unsure. Steve dreaded what was going to come next, but then, nothing could be worse than what she’d said to him in the church could it?

“Daniel and I. We’re…going to start seeing each other.”

Steve was dumbfounded. For half a moment he thought Peggy meant literally ‘seeing’ each other and wondered how they’d ever managed to do their job without visual contact, but then he realised what she meant, and he felt his stomach sink. “What?” Was all he could manage to ask as a million different questions welled up in his mind.

“I know it’s soon, and I promise you nothing happened whilst we were together, I could never do that to you.”

Steve’s mind went white with anger and confusion. “No. You’d never cheat on me. But humiliating me in front of all of our friends and your entire extended family – that’s okay.”

“Steve,” Peggy tried to pacify him, but Steve didn’t want to hear it.

“Why are you telling me?”

“I didn’t want you to hear it from anyone else and wonder if – “

“How long?” Steve asked.

“What?”

“Nothing happened whilst we were together, but you clearly _wanted_ it to. How long?” Steve bit out through gritted teeth. How could he have been such a fucking idiot?

“What I _wanted _was to be able to marry you, Steve. It would have been so much easier. I never _wanted_ any of this to happen.”

“Then why didn’t you?”

“Because you don’t marry someone just because it’s easier, Steve! You marry someone because you love them, and – and I don’t love you anymore. Not like that. And I know don’t you don’t love me anymore either.”

“I did, Peggy. I really did love you.”

“I know you did, darling. Once upon a time. I did too. But it hasn’t been that way between us for a long time. Even before Daniel.”

Steve’s mind was still searing white hot. He thought he felt tears prick at his eyes, but he couldn’t be sure of anything. The whole world was burning with numbing shame and anger that spread across his chest and burned up his throat and into his cheeks.

“How long?” he asked again, not sure he really wanted to know the answer, but knowing he’d wonder forever if he didn’t hear it. “How long have you been in love with him?”

“I’m not in love with him.” Peggy scoffed, but she wasn’t convincing.

“How long?” Steve pressed.

When she finally answered it was in a very quiet voice, but there was an undercurrent of resentment, like she was annoyed with Steve for making her face up to her feelings.

“Since the conference in LA.”

Steve didn’t think it was possible for the rug to be pulled out from under him twice in one conversation, but once again everything lurched sideways. “That –” he wavered. “That was almost two years ago.”

“I’m sorry, Steve,”

Steve didn’t hear her. “Two. Years? Why didn’t you say something sooner? Why didn’t you _talk _to me? You let me propose. Let me plan a whole fucking wedding. Let all of our friends and family travel – some of them hundreds of miles – just so you could leave me right in front of all of them…”

“I was scared, Steve. Scared of losing what we had. Because it was so good in the beginning – we just, lost our way a little somewhere down the line. I didn’t want to let that go.”

“Then don’t, Peggy –”

“I can’t, Steve. I just can’t. I don’t think we were ever meant to more than friends, we’re just incompatible that way.”

“Incompatible?”

“You always wanted to put me up on a pedestal, live this perfect version of our lives where nothing was ever contentious, or flawed. You acquiesced to everything, even when I knew you didn’t like it.”

“Because that’s was what a relationship is! You make sacrifices so that the other person can be happy!” Steve protested.

“Not all the time!” Peggy argued back. “Not about everything little thing! You’re allowed to have your own wants and desires, Steve! You’re allowed to be selfish every now and again!”

Steve didn’t know who to respond to that.

“Even now, you’re far more concerned with how other people feel – about letting them down because we didn’t get married. You’re never honest with your own feelings Steve, you keep everything bottled up and I can’t cope with that anymore.”

“Then… then.” Steve grappled, trying to find a way to make things right. “I’ll try harder. I’ll be better –”

“No, Steve. I’ve tried for the last eleven years to get you to open up more and break out of your shell, but every time I try you become even more closed off and guarded. You can’t be that way – at least not with me. And I can’t live like that, Steve. I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry. I should never had let it get so far. I just didn’t want to lose you.” She was crying, he could hear her sniffing back tears, trying so hard to keep a composure that was rapidly slipping. “Can you ever forgive me?”

Steve’s mind was a roaring mess. His breath was shallow and ragged. “I don’t know what to think right now.”

“I know, I know, darling. I’m sorry. And I know it’s soon to be…moving on…I know. I wish it weren’t like this.”

“So do I.”

“But I know there’s someone out there for you – someone better for you than I could ever be.”

Steve swallowed hard.

“I hope you meet them soon. And I hope that you can be happy. I really do. I’m – I have to go now.” Peggy sniffed. “You can collect your things whenever you’re ready. Or store them here until you get settled. Whatever you need. I’m sorry, Steve. Goodbye.” She hung up, leaving Steve a reeling mess of emotions.

He balled his fist around his phone so tight it almost cracked the screen, and let out a slow shuddering breath as he fought every urge to tip his head back and scream. When the impulse to throw his fist through the wall got too much, Steve stormed back to the lobby. Thankfully Bucky’s seat at the bar was empty, Steve couldn’t handle Bucky seeing him in state he was in. Trying to get control of his breathing, Steve marched up to the concierge and asked with a very stilted growl: “There’s a gym here somewhere, right?”

The concierge trembled ever so slightly in the face of Steve’s anger and pointed to a separate staircase around the corner from the bank of elevators. “Yes sir, lower ground floor.”

Steve fled down the stairs, using his room key to gain access to the gym, and stood panting in the doorway for a second; a pent up ball of angry energy and mortification. The gym was a long, low ceilinged room which looked out over the back of the hotel. Through a wall of tinted floor-to-ceiling windows Steve could see dense tropical vegetation being pelted by the storm. Everything was sleek black with flashes of neon green, and all of the equipment looked high-end and well maintained. A few of the machines were occupied, but it was the punching bag hanging in a walled-off corner of the room that Steve was concerned with. He threw his phone on a bench, kicked off his flipflops, angrily, and ripped almost all of the buttons on his shirt as he tore it off, before strapping up his knuckles with the roll of gauze kindly provided by the hotel. He was still in his swimming shorts and he was now bare chested, and bare footed, but it didn’t actually look out of place. And to be honest? He didn’t fucking care.

Steve lost himself in the soothing repetitive movements of strapping up his hands, making sure they were secured nice and tight, letting his mind go blank and the white-hot rage seep out of his skin. Satisfied he wasn’t going to break his fingers, Steve traced a grounding line down the centre of the punching bag with a balled fist and then let himself tear into it. 

Steve pounded all of his frustration, anger, and hurt into the punching bag until his entire body was shaking with exhaustion. When his arms felt too heavy to lift, he let himself fall against the bag, breathing deep and slow. His thoughts had settled slightly, he could at least mull over Peggy’s words without wanting to scream or tear his hair out. What hurt most, more than the shame, anger, and humiliation, was that she was right. They were, on a fundamental level, incompatible. Steve had always kept Peggy at arm’s length, always guarded his feelings, always tried to do right by her, because – deep down – he still didn’t feel good enough for her.

He’d never understood what she’d seen in him, and he’d vowed to himself from their very first date that he’d do whatever it took to make her happy; even if that meant making sacrifices for himself. He realised now that it wasn’t exactly the foundations for a healthy relationship. Things could only have gotten worse down the line, if they had married and tried to force it to work, everything would have just turned bitter and sour. Maybe it was a good thing that Peggy had the courage to do what Steve never could; the courage to step up and end it now.

Slowly, Steve unwound the tape from his fists and stumbled over to a water fountain set against the wall. He drank deeply and splashed a handful of water into his hair and down the back of his neck. He was slick with sweat and his chest was heaving, and people were staring at him; Steve could feel multiple pairs of eyes pricking at the back of his neck, but he ignored them as best he could. He wasn’t finished yet. Before his muscles could seize up, Steve crossed to the row of yoga mats laid out in front of the windows and dropped into the series of stretches that were second nature to him by now and helped soothe his mind every time.

Back when his asthma was an unavoidable part of his life, yoga had been about the limit of Steve’s athletic ability. On Sunday mornings he and his ma would push the furniture back and make each other laugh with their off-balance poses. Sometimes they’d even sneak down to Prospect Park and hide behind the trees to follow along with a group class being led on the lawn; until the instructor chased them away for having not paid. When that happened, they’d head down to the lake, giggling at each other as they watched the ducks swimming and invented their own yoga moves instead. Now, of course, youtube was filled with free tutorials all shot in soft pastels with bright, white, minimalist backdrops. Steve had watched his far share and taught himself proper technique, often wondering what his mother would have to say if she could watch them with him.

Steve’s balanced had improved dramatically thanks to careful drills with the college coaches – no one wanted a rower who’d throw the whole boat off balance – and he could hold the poses for much longer, really feeling the aching burn as his muscles began to stretch and strain; but despite everything that had changed since the last time he’d pushed up from the floor of his childhood home - struggling to arch into a ‘cobra’ and chastising his ma for laughing at him and breaking his concentration - he was right back there every time he sunk into the position. He closed his eyes and he could almost breathe in the smell of the freesia scented laundry detergent that had clung to every corner of their home. Even after all this time Steve still missed his mother with a physical ache in his chest, especially at times like this when he could really use her advice and comforting words. He tried to imagine what she might say to him about this whole debacle, but though he could picture her clearly, and knew that she’d stroke a comforting hand through his hair, he couldn’t manifest the words that she would say.

Steve dropped out of the pose, lying face down on mat and letting himself wallow for just a moment. This was something he was going to have to figure out on his own. He forced his eyes open and pushed himself back up to standing. The sky was darkening rapidly outside and rain still lashed against the glass, but the storm had lost some of its rage. In a few hours all traces of the storm would be gone.

It hurt to admit that it was over, that Peggy was really gone, and Steve knew it was going to be a struggle to move on. So much of his life, so much of figuring who he was and where he fit into the world had been built around Peggy, but he also knew that he had to try.


	15. Steve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay! It's been a busy week at work. Thank you so much for all of your comments!! <333

Steve was running late. Very late. He opted to sprint up the stairs, rather than waiting in the lobby for an elevator, and immediately regretted the decision. Before he’d reached the third floor, his chest began to ache with the tell-tale tightness that reminded Steve that he _did_ still have asthma and that he _did_ still need to be careful. Breathing heavily, trying to gulp down air into lungs that felt closed-off, Steve rooted around in his wash kit for his daily asthma medication. His dose allowed up to two extra pills a day if he really over-exerted himself and Steve swallowed them both down before he staggered into the bathroom for a lightning quick shower. The placebo effect from the pills worked immediately, preventing him from panicking about not being able to breathe, and as he scrubbed the sweat and salt from his body, the drugs worked their magic, loosening up his chest once again. It still ached with the hollow pangs of heartbreak; but unfortunately there was no immediate relief for that.

Steve had meant to call it a day after the yoga, but then he’d spotted the rowing machines lined up along the back wall and had been powerless to resist. He had time, so he set the timer for 15 minutes and lost himself in the smooth pull and stretch of each stroke. It was only when the sky began to darken and Steve’s limbs began to ache with an exhausted fatigue that he bothered to check the screen and realised – to his horror – that he’d set it for 15 _miles_ not minutes. He’d been rowing for over forty-five minutes and it was rapidly approaching 7:20pm.

Cursing his stupidity, Steve hopped out of the shower and towelled himself down at record speed, dressing in the first pair of clothes he pulled from his suitcase and not bothering to style his hair. It would dry fluffy, but Steve honestly didn’t care. Not only had he abandoned Bucky all afternoon to recover from a phone call that he really shouldn’t have bothered to answer, but he was going to be more than forty minutes late to dinner. What on earth were they going to think of him?

Steve tapped his foot anxiously as the elevator slowly dropped to the ground floor, and repeatedly ran his hands across his hair to try and flatten it at least a little bit. By the time the doors dinged open and he hurried across the lobby to the restaurant, Steve had lost all of his calm and was back to being a ball of jittery nerves.

He gave Bucky’s name to the hostess and she directed Steve towards a table on the far side of the room. Steve spotted Bucky immediately, his head was tipped back and his eyes were crinkled mid-laugh. Either the asthma meds were working overtime, or something about the sight of Bucky dislodged part of the ache in Steve’s chest. He hurried over, weaving between the white-clothed tables and marvelling at golden glow of the chandeliers overhead which were reflected back in the pitch black view from the windows, like a thousand twinkling stars. A baby-grand piano stood in the corner of the room and the soft chimes of melodic notes soared above the muted conversations and gentle click-clatter of cutlery against plates. Bucky spotted Steve when he still a few tables away and grinned at him, waving him over.

“Steve!” Bucky beamed.

“Hi, sorry I’m so late,” Steve settled himself into the chair beside Bucky, shaking out the napkin over his lap and trying not to feel too oafish in amongst the delicate plate settings and general elegance of the room. The place seemed to have been transformed since breakfast, which itself felt like it had happened a lifetime ago. “I got caught with a phone call.”

“Everything okay?” Bucky asked with such a genuine care and concern that it brought a smile to Steve’s face.

“It will be.”

Bucky reached under the table to give Steve’s hand a squeeze. Steve squeezed back, a little overwhelmed by Bucky’s casual intimacy.

“We _were_ gonna wait for you,” Bucky started, sounding a little sheepish.

“But then Bucky got hungry and ordered.” Becca finished for him, laughing.

“Sorry.” He smiled up at Steve, all big blue eyes and mock innocence. Steve shook his head, smiling back in a manner that could only be described as fond.

“It’s alright. You really didn’t need to wait.”

Fortunately they’d only had starters, so Steve was able to flag down a waiter and order quickly; taking a leaf out of Bucky's book and ordering the first thing that caught his attention, along with a large glass of wine.

"Actually, make it a bottle," he amended. "Four glasses."

Conversation flowed easily between them. By the time they were onto their second bottle of wine, Becca and Rob felt like old friends, and Bucky was smiling at Steve with such a comforting warmth that Steve's anger and frustration from earlier in the day completely melted away. He told them about his business, and learned that Rob was a history teacher who coached Little League Baseball in his spare time. He learned that Becca was working as a payroll clerk whilst she completed her accounting degree part time at Ivy Tech - but that she was still holding out for a career as a movie star to magically happen one day. He learned that Bucky had always wanted to be an astronaut, that he still kind of did, and that even though he was a little bit scared of heights, he'd always wanted to visit the Grand Canyon. They talked about Sam, and Steve learned that he'd gone to visit Bucky regularly in the hospital after Bucky's many surgeries to make sure he was doing okay, and that even though they hadn't seen him in years, the Barneses still got a box of homemade cookies from him every Christmas. 

The restaurant emptied around them and the candle on the table steadily burned away to nothing as they talked. When the third bottle of wine was empty, and when Becca could no longer stifle her sleepy yawns, she and Rob decided to call it a night.

"Enjoy the sea caves tomorrow." She told them, standing up and pushing her chair in. "Just make sure you’re back in time for the dinner, Bucky? It starts at 7 sharp, and remember you promised to make a toast?"

"I hadn't forgotten."

"I'll get him back in time, don't worry," Steve assured her. 

"Alright. Goodnight!" She blew them both a kiss and looped her arm through Rob's, who also wished them goodnight with a small wave. They left arm-in-arm, walking with a sleepy gait and leaning against each other for support.

"We should probably turn in too," Bucky arched back in his chair, stretching his right arm high over his head and kicking his long legs out under the table. “Especially if we’ve got an early start.”

“I wasn’t planning to leave before eleven.”

“A lie-in _and_ a boat trip,” Bucky titled his head to smile at Steve. “You sure know how to spoil a fella.” The words were drawled with a confidence that promptly vanished as Bucky second guessed what he’d said. His eyes widened and his adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed a lump in his throat.

For the first time that evening an awkward tension cut through the quiet calm, and suddenly the lingering unease from their almost-kiss was all Steve could think of. God, he wished he hadn’t shut Bucky down like that, but Steve hadn’t been ready. He still wasn’t ready; wasn’t sure he’d ever be ready for someone like Bucky – who could make him feel so much in such a short space of time. Bucky, who’d seen Steve be vulnerable, and emotionally raw, and had still wanted to kiss him.

_Not yet_.

Steve willed Bucky to understand that he wanted him. By god, he’d wanted few things more in his life, but Steve was scared of the weight of his feelings, and scared of giving into them so soon; scared of what it all might mean.

_Soon_, just not yet.

They weren’t half as drunk as they had been the night before, so there was nothing to mask the awkwardness of getting ready for bed. Bucky let Steve use the bathroom first, and afterwards Steve peeled back the covers from his side of the bed, sitting down stiffly and remembering to breathe nice and slow. He plugged his phone on charge, triple checking that it was actually charging this time, and set an alarm for 9am. He ignored the work emails piling up in his inbox (147 unread), but accidentally opened up the call log, spotting the record of his phone call with Peggy from earlier and grimacing.

“You okay?” Bucky hovered in the doorway of the bathroom, his mouth downturned in concern.

“Yeah.” Steve locked his phone and threw it on the bedside table, twisting to lie on the bed with a huff.

“I can take the sofa if you’d prefer?” Bucky asked, misreading Steve’s annoyance.

“No, no. No. It’s not that it’s…nothing.”

“If you’re sure.” Bucky flicked off the bathroom light and dropped his wash kit back in his suitcase.

Steve felt the mattress dip as Bucky climbed into bed beside him. Bucky tossed and turned for a moment, rustling the covers as he got comfy, before he reached up to turn out the bedside light and the room was plunged into darkness.

Steve squeezed his eyes shut and tried to find the peace he’d worked so hard for all afternoon, but the ache was lodged back in his chest. “It’s Peggy.” He muttered, unable to keep it bottled in anymore.

“Oh. What did she want?” Bucky’s voice was muffled against the pillow.

“She’s started seeing someone.”

The bed rocked as Bucky bolted upright. Steve curled in on himself even more, unable to face Bucky.

“What? _Already_? Isn’t that a bit fucking soon?” Bucky gasped, before scrambling to apologise. “Sorry – I just mean…_shit_.”

“Apparently she’s been in love with him for the past two years,” Steve couldn’t keep the bitterness out of his voice.

“Fucking _hell_. That’s, that’s,” words failed Bucky. “I’m sorry, Steve.”

“Me too.” Steve’s resolve finally broke and the tears he’d been holding back all afternoon, the tears he promised himself wouldn’t cry, threatened to burst forth. “I must be the biggest idiot in the world not to have seen it.”

“No, hey, no.” Bucky shuffled to cross the space between them and placed a hand on Steve’s arm.

It was the last straw, Steve was powerless in the face of Bucky’s consolation and he began to cry fat, thick tears. “I’m sorry,” Steve sniffed.

“Don’t be. I’d be crying too if it were me.” Bucky began to rub soothing circles into Steve’s arm. “And you’re not an idiot.” He settled himself behind Steve, leaving a narrow wedge of space between them, keeping his hand tracing a pattern into Steve’s skin. “Is this okay?”

Steve trembled with his tears. He didn’t know how to ask for more, so he nodded, then mumbled a soft, “yes.” He brought his hand up to cover Bucky’s and held it tight.

Thankfully Bucky seemed to be able to read Steve’s mind. He shuffled closer until he was pressed up against Steve’s back. “You’re gonna be okay,” Bucky told him softly, but with assurance. He lingered for a moment, cuddling up to Steve, holding him and stopping him from falling completely apart. “Goodnight, Steve,” he gave Steve’s hand a squeeze and went to move away, but Steve held firm, this time it was his turn to ask Bucky to stay.

“Stay, please?” His voice sounded a little helpless and pathetic, belying the courage it had taken to ask.

“Okay.” Bucky complied, settling back against Steve and tucking his head into the nape of Steve’s neck.

“Thank you.” 

Bucky hummed in reply. 

There was so much more that Steve wanted to say, but he couldn’t find the words.

“Goodnight, Bucky.”

“G’night.” Bucky said again, already sounding half-asleep. 

The beat of Bucky’s heart reverberated through Steve’s back. It drummed slow and steady compared to the nervous flutter of Steve’s own. He tried to match his breathing to Bucky’s and tried to ground himself against Bucky’s warm weight. Feeling sleep tug gently at the corners of his mind, Steve let his eyes drift shut. Eventually his breathing slowed and his heart rate evened out as he drifted off; feeling safe and reassured as he fell asleep in Bucky’s arms.


	16. Bucky

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Bucky has a panic attack - more details in the end notes.

The sun was high and bright, even behind Bucky’s sunglasses. He tilted his head towards it and lounged on the bench along the back of the speed boat, letting his hand play in the spray that was kicked out in their wake. Steve handled the boat like a seasoned pro, and as they raced out to sea, Bucky couldn’t help feeling a little like he was in a Bond movie or something.

When Steve had suggested the boat trip Bucky had expected a row boat with a little outboard motor. He definitely hadn’t been expecting the streamlined, open top speed boat with a red cushioned seats that looked it like it belonged as a launch vehicle inside a 60ft luxury yacht. He also assumed it would be a group trip, or a guided tour at least, with a resort appointed skipper to show them around the caves. But Steve was full of surprises; he’d produced a ICC boat license and they’d been able to charter the boat for the whole day – unsupervised.

The prospect of a whole day to go and do as they pleased was thrilling, and Bucky’s heart raced as they picked up speed and zipped around the headland with the hotel disappearing quickly from view. Bucky kicked back and breathed in the sea air, his gaze torn between Steve and the scenic views, as he tried to make sense of everything that had happened in the last thirty-six hours.

It had been an unexpected delight to fall asleep entwined around Steve like that, even more so to wake up still huddled together. Thankfully they’d shifted slightly in the night; Steve had wound up on his back, with Bucky draped across Steve’s chest and his hips mercifully canted away from the Steve, because as he woke, Bucky realised with a rush of shame that he was hard. Fortunately his hips were pressed into the mattress and not directly into Steve’s back, sparing Bucky from an overload of mortification and preventing things from rapidly turning awkward. As it was, Steve had stirred gently, waking with a soft contented hum. He’d even given Bucky’s hair a soft ruffle that had turned into a caressing stoke down the side of Bucky’s face before he’d extricated himself to use the bathroom. Bucky had had to bite his lip to keep back a moan as the touch set him aglow. He buried his face into the pillows after Steve had gone, letting out a whine of frustration as he wondered what it all meant.

Steve was unprecedented. Bucky had never spent this much time one-on-one with someone before, and he wasn’t sure he knew the script for this scenario. Bucky’s attempt to kiss Steve had made his desire fairly plain, but Steve was sending out a whole load of mixed messages; rejecting him one minute, asking him to stay and cuddle the next. In many ways, falling as sleep as they had, with Steve allowing himself to be so open and vulnerable like that, seemed far more intimate than if they’d just had sex. The problem was, Bucky didn’t know what happened next.

Steve had obviously been rattled by his phone call with Peggy and the bombshell that she was seeing someone else already; and rightly so, it was soon – far too soon – to be moving on when you looked at it from an objective perspective. Did that make Bucky a hypocrite for wanting Steve to be as quick to put the past behind him? Though, Steve hadn’t been in love with him for the past two years, and seeing someone in an official enough capacity that it warranted informing your ex, was hardly the same thing as letting yourself enjoy a holiday fling, Bucky reasoned. Different ball park entirely.

Still, short lived romantic trysts weren’t everyone’s cup of tea. Even if Steve was attracted to Bucky, maybe he had no intention of acting on it. Maybe Steve didn’t know what he wanted yet. Maybe he’d decide that he just needed someone to be a friend for the next ten days, or a literal shoulder to cry on. Bucky hoped that wasn’t the case. He yearned for Steve in a way that he’d never experienced before, and sent up a silent prayer to a god he wasn’t sure he still believed in that Steve’s ‘not yet’ might be a ‘soon’. But at the same time he reigned back his hopes and tried to dispel any expectations. If friendship was all that Steve wanted, Bucky would find a way to be okay with that. Steve had such a warm, golden-hearted soul that Bucky felt lucky just being in his orbit.

He glanced across to Steve who was standing confidently at the helm, both hands steady on the wheel as the boat dipped and skimmed across the crests of the waves. He’d dressed appropriately for the occasion, white canvas shorts that hugged the curve of his glutes, a navy blue waterproof pullover, mirrored aviator shades and boat shoes, which had been kicked off in favour of navigating bare foot around the boat. His blonde bangs streamed above his head like he was some sort of Disney prince, and when he peered over his shoulder to grin at Bucky it was with a look of unparalleled delight. Bucky couldn’t help but return the grin, letting a feeling of warm contentment flutter through his chest.

“There’s the first cave!” Steve shouted to him over the wind. Bucky’s train of thought scattered and he sat upright to peer over the small windscreen at where Steve was pointing. The coastline had transformed into tall rocky cliffs of pale stone, topped with sprawling trees and creeping vines. The cliffs were riddled with fault lines and at their base great fissures were carved out, like irregular triangles and rough arches filled with a shadowed darkness. Steve began to slow down and they idled past a few smaller caves until the cliffs fell away into a large bay of towering stacks and arches.

“Wow,” Bucky breathed, mouth agape and eyes wide.

“Breathing taking, isn’t it?”

The boat engine chugged with a gear change as Steve slowed to a crawl. He swung the boat in a loose figure of eight right through one of the arches, and circled carefully around the stacks, leaving a trail of white foam tracing a pretty pattern of their route. Bucky’s heart swelled. It was all too fantastic to take in. He swallowed and tore his eyes from the rock formations to stare at Steve, who was already grinning at Bucky. He seemed much less over-awed at their surroundings, but looked delighted by how impressed Bucky was.

“Yeah, it’s beautiful.”

“Ready to go in one?” Steve’s grin widened and the boat gurgled as he picked up their speed, heading straight for a large fissure in the rock face. He timed their approach to catch a swell of the water which carried them straight into the entrance of the cave. Immediately the view was transformed from a sheet of black nothingness to a wide dome of colourful rock and turquoise waters. Bucky pushed his sunglasses onto his head and tried to take it all in. Light streamed through the opening behind them, bouncing off the tranquil waters and dancing on the roof of the cave above them. Bucky’s breath caught in his throat. It was…staggering, unexpected, and strangely familiar. Steve steered them right into the centre of the cave, spinning in a slow circle.

Bucky’s breath remained caught. He tried to swallow deep mouthfuls, but his was having difficulty remembering how to breathe. Their pass around the cave brought them very close to the cave wall and flinched away from it, suddenly finding himself in a very different cave. All at once the dreamlike idyllic morning was shattered as Bucky’s trauma reared its ugly head. He tried to inhale a breath of salty-sea air to ground himself here and now, but his nose refused to draw breath. Shells and artillery fire thundered against his ears. Bucky tried to block out the memories, telling himself it was diesel from the boat engine he could smell, not the burning fumes from an IED, but it was no use. He was spiralling before he knew how to stop it, losing a futile battle with his PTSD and the chokehold it still had on his mind. Bucky tried to cry out but his lungs didn’t have the air to make a sound. He thoughts slipped off their tracks and his vision blacked out.

=

“Bucky? Bucky. Stay with me, Bucky. Breathe nice and slow, follow my lead, okay? In…and out…in…and out…”

Bucky blinked, disorientated, against the bright sunlight. He focused on two very concerned blue eyes and a knitted brow in front of him – _Steve_ – his mind supplied after a few more seconds of utter confusion.

“That’s it, breathe with me. In, two, three, four – out, two, three four.”

Bucky realised he was in fact breathing in time with the instructions, though he could hardly say it was a conscious choice given that his mind barely had one hand on the wheel at best.

“Steve?”

“Hey, Buck. Lost you for a minute there, pal.”

“How – how long?” his tongue was thick and heavy in his mouth. He noticed the boat was bobbing aimlessly out at sea, far enough out that the cliffs weren’t towering over them. It was good, Bucky wasn’t sure he would have been able to cope with their daunting shadows anymore.

“A few minutes.” Steve was crouching in front of him, one hand on Bucky’s knee, the other was squeezing his right shoulder gently. “Maybe more. Not long. Are you alright?”

“Sorry. I didn’t expect that to be a trigger.” How stupid of him to think anything good could last too long.

“Nothing to apologise for. Are you okay? Do you need a drink? Bottle of water?”

“Yeah.” Bucky’s mouth was dry and his hands were shaking slightly. _Fuck._ Lost time yesterday, now a full blown panic attack? What the fuck was wrong with him?

Steve’s touch disappeared briefly as he fetched a bottle of water from the cool box stowed in hatch by the steering column. He cracked it open and held it out to Bucky, taking a seat on the bench beside him and returning his hand to Bucky’s knee.

Bucky gulped down half of the bottle in one go, squeezing the bottle in his fist. “Fuck, I’m sorry. I should have warned you about that.” Bucky screwed his eyes shut and blew out a jagged exhale. Steve just gave Bucky’s knee a tender squeeze.

“Are you alright?”

“I’ll be fine. Just give me a minute.”

“Sure thing.”

They bobbed in silence, broken only by the lapping of water against the boat and sea birds squawking overhead. Steve seemed content to sit and wait for as long as Bucky needed, which was far more than Bucky deserved; after he’d ruined what had been shaping up to be a lovely day.

“I don’t think I can handle any more caves. Sorry, I wrecked the boat trip.” And the massage. God, he was such a fucking mess. Steve shouldn’t have to deal with all of this crap.

“It’s just a cave, I’ve seen plenty. I’m more concerned about you.” Steve sounded like he genuinely meant that as well. “Do you want to go back to hotel?”

“No.” Bucky’s reply was instantaneous. He didn’t know what he wanted, didn’t know what he was allowed; only that he wanted to spend more time with Steve. They’d had a whole day planned, Bucky didn’t want to ruin that.

“Okay, well,” Steve considered. “There’s a beach further up the coast I was going to head to for lunch, but it seems a bit early for that. We could head further out to sea if you wanted? There should be some dolphins this time of year, if we go out far enough.”

“Dolphins?” Bucky glanced up at Steve.

“Yeah.”

“Actual dolphins. Like, wild ones?” Hope swelled in his chest, maybe the day wouldn’t be ruined after all.

“Yes,” Steve laughed at him.

“Hell yeah!”

“Okay,” Steve continued to laugh. “You’ll need to be my spotter.”

“Hold up –” Bucky recoiled, associating ‘spotter’ with sniper terminology. “We’re not _shooting _these dolphins.”

“What? ‘course not! I meant, like a look out? With binoculars?” Steve stood up and fished a pair of industrial looking binoculars from a compartment in the console. “I’ll concentrate on where we’re going, you look out for dolphins.” He held out the binoculars for Bucky to take.

Bucky huffed out a relieved laugh. “Right. Makes sense.”

“_Shooting dolphins_.” Steve shook his head. “That what you think of me?” he teased with an affectionate mocking.

“No,” Bucky stood on shaky legs to take the binoculars from Steve and joined him standing behind the low windscreen. “Sorry.”

“Quit apologising. You’ve got nothing to be sorry for. Now put those eyes of yours to good use and find us some dolphins.”

“Aye, Captain.” Bucky smirked with no small amount of snark.

=

Acting as ‘spotter’ kept Bucky’s mind from spiralling as he focused on scanning the horizon; he suspected that had been Steve’s intent, and he was grateful for the gesture. Trying to differentiate between the dark peaks of rippled waves and dorsal fins of potential dolphins was harder than expected – it turned out dolphins were pretty-well camouflaged, who’d’ve thought? – but Bucky wasn’t a decorated sniper for nothing and it was nice to be able to put his eyesight to a good use for once.

“Ten o’clock,” he shouted, spotting a cluster of moving dark triangles that had to be fins. The birds circling overhead also gave weight to the theory. “About 2 clicks away.”

Steve adjusted course and soon they were hopping and skimming across the waves with the wind in their hair. As they drew closer, Bucky saw the arched backs of the dolphins through the binoculars and gave an audible gasp. As distractions went, it was pretty perfect.

“Wow,” he breathed, pressing the binoculars so hard against his eyes that they were sure to leave marks. “They’re heading north,” he relayed to Steve.

“I’ve got them.” He grinned back. Bucky lowered the binoculars to find them perfectly visible with the naked eye now.

Steve reduced their speed as they approached, drawing along-side the pod which was powering through the water with an elegant ease. Some of them broke away to surge alongside their boat, playing around in the spray they were kicking out in their wake. Bucky dropped the binoculars onto the bench and knelt over the side, getting his face as close to the wonderful creatures as he dared. He could hardly believe that any of this was happening. Bucky was distantly aware that Steve was laughing at him as he kept the boat coursing through the waves, picking up speed to churn out more spray for the dolphins to frolic in. They were dancing around the boat now, about eight of them, criss-crossing in front and behind, some of them diving down underneath and surfacing on the other side with a graceful leap.

Bucky lost track of time in the best possibly way as they cruised with the dolphins, and soon a couple of other boats joined them: a guided tour from the mainland full of tourists crowded against the siderail, snapping photos like their lives depended on capturing the perfect shot; and a catamaran of lithe, swimwear clad people exclaiming to each other in a language Bucky couldn’t understand. They slowed to halt, bobbing aimlessly as the dolphins swam curiously between the three boats. Steve turned off the engine and fished two bottles of beer from the cool box, popping the caps and handing one to Bucky.

“Just when I thought things couldn’t get any better,” Bucky accepted the beer with a grateful smile, but Steve wasn’t finished yet. He inclined his head like Bucky should follow him, and proceeded to climb up onto the side of the boat, picking his way around the windscreen and stretching himself out on the bow. Bucky kicked off his shoes to follow, walking in a crouched position and using the handrail along the edge of the bow to keep himself from falling overboard. He settled beside Steve, leaning back against the windscreen with his legs kicked out before him. From there they had the prefect vantage point as the dolphins swam around them. It was absolute bliss.

“Cheers,” Steve held out his bottle for Bucky to clink his against.

In that moment, everything else fell away. Bucky could forget the uncertainty between him and Steve, he could forget the horrors that had been triggered by the cave that morning. With the sun overhead, a cold beer in his hand, a spectacular view before him, and Steve by his side, Bucky felt like the luckiest man alive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for Bucky's panic attack - it's triggerd once they enter the cave. I don't think it's too descriptive, but if you don't like things like that, skip from 'Steve steered them right into the centre of the cave, spinning in a slow circle.' to the '=' (it's only about a paragraph).
> 
> Sorry this chapter is such a mixed bag of emotions! Things will level out soon. Also, upping my word count estimate to 50k+ now. Don't know how I'm managing to spin it out so long! Thanks for sticking with it, and thank you so much for all of your comments <33333


	17. Bucky

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all of your comments! I love reading each and every one of them, they really brighten my day <333  
I've given up estimating the total word count, but it'll be upwards of 50k now because these chapters are getting longer and longer...

They chilled on the bow of the speed boat long after the dolphins had moved on and the other boats had left them with nothing but the endless blue ocean spread out before them. For a while they just enjoyed the peace and quiet, both a little lost in their own thoughts before a wordless agreement passed between them that it was time to move on. Steve restarted the engine, which gave a gentle gurgle as it kicked back into life, and turned the boat in a lazy u-turn, heading back towards the island. Bucky kicked back once again with his face turned into the wind, enjoying the feel of it tugging through his hair. He kept his eyes shut as they zipped past the rocky cliffs, opening them to find Steve was steering them towards a secluded cove. A narrow band of golden sand separated the sea from the dense green forest that sloped up into the mountains behind. Well, mountain singular, really, probably more of a hill actually, Bucky contemplated as Steve drove the boat straight towards the beach. Bucky had been expecting to anchor in the shallows and wade ashore, so he wasn’t prepared for Steve to continue full pace ahead, cutting the engine at the last second and letting the waves wash the boat up the beach. Steve leapt out onto the sand the moment they’d beached, using the momentum of the boat – and his ridiculous muscles – to haul it clear of the tide line. _Jesus Christ_, Bucky muttered to himself; impressed and really quite turned on. Steve was so unassuming with his strength that it was easy to forget just how well toned he was under that pullover.

“That’s not the first time you’ve done that,” Bucky commented, gathering his thoughts and hopping down into the sand. It squished between his toes, warm and coarse.

“Nope,” Steve returned with smile that looked almost coy.

“Where’d you learn to drive a boat?”

“Monaco.”

Bucky blinked, whatever he’d been expecting it wasn’t that.

“Yeah,” Steve laughed at his expression. “My life went in a very different direction when I met Peggy. Her family had an apartment over there, and what I can only call a _flotilla_ of boats. Went from spending my summers sweltering in Brooklyn and Coney Island, to lazing around the French Rivera.”

“Wow.” Was all Bucky could manage to say.

Steve shrugged. “Helluva thing to get to see, but I never really fit in. I always ended up spending more time with the staff and really pissing her parents off.”

Buck didn’t know what to say to that so he scanned the beach instead. Palm trees clustered behind them, providing ample shade, and the waves lapped gently on the shore line; calm and tranquil, and all just for them.

“Where shall we sit?” Steve asked, retrieving a cool box from the bottom of the boat and producing a picnic blanket from another compartment hidden under the seat.

“I don’t think we’re short on space,” Bucky laughed.

They spread the blanket right in the middle of the beach under the dappled shade of the swaying palm tree fronds. Bucky pushed his sunglasses on top of his head and Steve stripped out of his pullover before rooting around through the coolbox.

“Oh, crap.” Steve sighed as he sorted through the food.

“What?”

“I, uh, forgot to amend the order.” He said sheepishly, glancing up at Bucky through his unreasonably long eyelashes. “So it’s…” he faltered, opting for showing rather than telling, and held up a tub of chocolate covered strawberries.

“Romantic finger food?” Bucky supplied with a grin.

“In a word, yes.”

“Fine by me,” Bucky assured Steve. “I love strawberries and chocolate,” he grinned. “Don’t see why they get to be claimed as romantic food.” But as he plucked one from the container to eat, Bucky quickly realised that there was no real way to eat a chocolate covered strawberry without looking like a complete tease.

Steve laughed at him, dipping his head and – was that a blush Bucky saw creeping up his neck? “Good. ‘cause we’ve also got, stuffed dates, olives, antipasto, caviar, shrimp cocktail – by the looks of things – oh and champagne.” Steve produced a bottle with a flourish, along with two plastic champagne flutes. “Fancy a glass?” there was definitely a slight blush colouring his cheeks.

“Sure, why not? Just don’t let me get too drunk. I need to be sober to give my speech this evening.”

“Right.” Steve handed the flutes for Bucky to hold as he popped the cork and poured out two glasses in one fluid motion. “Do you know what you’re going to say yet?”

“I’ve got a pretty good idea,” Bucky sipped at the sharp bubbles; it tasted dry and expensive, not like the cheap sweet stuff he was used to. “They’ve been together for so long, I’ve got plenty of material. Just need to find the right balance between embarrassing and sweet.”

“I’m sure you’ll do great.”

Bucky hummed and drank more champagne.

“They seem really great together.” Steve commented.

“Yeah. They are. Rob’s brilliant. He’s been a real rock for Becca when I couldn’t be.” Bucky drained his glass and held it out to Steve for a refill.

“Sure?”

“Yeah, it’s ages before dinner. I don’t normally drink this much, by the way.” Bucky added as he sipped at the expensive champagne and realised that they hadn’t gone a meal so far without getting a little bit tipsy.

“Me either,” Steve assured him. “I don’t know what it is about being on holiday that makes it acceptable to drink champagne at lunch time,”

“I’m not complaining,” Bucky grinned.

“We’ll be on mimosas at breakfast by the time the week’s up.” Steve laughed.

“Don’t tempt me.” Bucky settled back on his elbows and staring out at the view. “This place is idyllic. I could get used to it here.”

“Yeah?” Steve kicked back beside Bucky, stretching his long legs out in front of him. "It’s nice to visit, but I don’t think I could live somewhere like this.”

“I dunno. Maybe if I was just lounging around all day with nothing to do, it would get old pretty quick. But sometimes I wonder what it would be like to pack it in and move somewhere tropical. Open up a B&B or something on the beachfront.” Bucky still hadn’t quite settled into the transition from a mostly-outdoors army life, to being stuck in a windowless office for forty hours a week. He’d never, ever, say that he missed the army, but he missed the sun on his face and the physicality of it. No matter how many hours he put in at the gym, you didn’t get the same tangible fatigue from actually using your muscles all day like they were intended to be used. It was an idle fantasy; Bucky would never bring himself to move too far from Becca – not again – but his job was helping people relocate and get settled in their new lives which made it all too easy to day dream. He said as much to Steve.

“Is that where’d you go if you ever had to lay low? Beachfront B&B?”

“Something like that. Or maybe a moped rental on a Greek island, like that girl at the end of the Bourne film.”

“Oh yeah,” Steve agreed. “I always thought that looked pretty perfect.”

“But, you’re probably right, the charm would wear off and I’d be hankering for a city again before I knew it. The grass is always greener and all that.” Bucky considered. Listening to the waves lapping on the shore and tropical birds twittering to each other in the trees, it was hard to imagine ever getting tired of it. Wind shifted through the palm trees blowing a soft breeze across their faces and the shade from the palm fronds danced over them in a soothing motion. It was a picture perfect definition of paradise – but Bucky suspected it was the transience that made it feel so special. If you lived somewhere like that, you’d start to take the ocean waves and golden sand for granted.

Bucky glanced sidelong at Steve, stretched out beside him like a Greek god. He’d stripped down to light blue t-shirt which clung rather unfairly to his shoulders, and planted his sunglasses in his hair, where they sat nestled amongst his golden locks. His face was turned towards the ocean, giving Bucky a dazzling view of his side profile: strong sweeping jaw, the little crooked lump in his nose and delicate curve of his lips. A jolt of unease wahed through Bucky. Was it the fleeting nature of their acquaintance that made Steve feel so special? Did Bucky only like him so much because he knew he’d never see Steve again after next week? 

“Does everyone ask to be placed somewhere like Florida, or Hawaii?” Steve turned to Bucky as he spoke, catching him staring and just giving Bucky a small, lopsided smile.

“Most people. But you can guarantee if they ask for somewhere that’s definitely _not_ where they’re going to end up.”

“How come?”

Bucky shrugged. He wouldn't really be spilling trade secrets by telling, would he? “The first places people ask for are likely to be ones they’ve talked about moving to before, or places they have connections; both things make it too risky to place them there. It’s a good tactic for ruling states out, though.” Bucky didn’t actually handle the interviews, or have any direct dealings with the witnesses himself. He was basically a glorified admin assistant, running around after the Marshalls, researching where people would be able to blend in best and falsifying records. It was something he was suprisingly good at.

“Where would you send me?”

“What?”

“If you had to relocate me. Based on what you know, where would put me?” Steve asked, with a curious smile.

Oddly, it wasn’t something Bucky had ever been asked before. He tilted his head and considered everything he knew about Steve so far. “Obviously you couldn’t stay on the east coast; between DC, New York and Jersey there’s too much potential of being recognised.” Bucky mused. “Seeing how much you seem to love boats, though, I’d put you somewhere coastal.” Bucky tried to picture somewhere Steve could belong. “Pacific Northwest, I’d say. Seattle, or maybe as far south as San Francisco if you wanted somewhere sunnier. You like art,”

Steve nodded, smiling growing deeper as he listened to Bucky.

“And I spotted some hardbacks in your suitcase,” he’d seen them yesterday evening as Steve routed around for his clothes, and had tried to read the titles from his spot on the bed. “So you obviously like to read.” Who else bothered carting hardback books on holiday? Even Bucky, who’d call himself something of a bookworm, tended to stick to the kindle app on his phone.

Steve hummed in agreement.

Books, and art, and an instinct to help people? An idea settled into Bucky’s mind and he grinned. “It’s always easier for us to find jobs in municipal sectors,” he explained. “So I’d probably put in a library.”

“A library?” Steve sounded surprised, but not appalled by the idea.

“Yeah, a public one. The type of place that stays open late and runs seminars and workshops for people. You could teach art classes in the evenings, run tutoring sessions for civics class, and you’d definitely help people with their voter registration every year.” Bucky could see it, Steve glowing at the centre of a little community, bringing people together with books and art, a warm smile and a willingness to pitch in and help wherever he could. “You’d paint a mural in the kids section and all the moms would swoon over you when they brought their kids in to hear you read on Thursday mornings.” He added with a laugh.

Steve dipped his head and chuckled under his breath.

“I’d have to come and visit you and tell you off for not keeping a low profile and drawing too much attention to yourself within the town.”

“Is that right?” When Steve glanced up, he was beaming. “You’d come and visit?”

“Sure, I’d have to make sure you were settling in.” Bucky beamed back. Home visits were definitely not a part of his job description, but they would be, for Steve.

Steve tipped his head back, clearly picturing the little life Bucky had conjured for him. “It sounds lovely; I may have found a new retirement plan.”

“You mean you’re not going to become a silver-fox CEO of the advertising industry? Sell your company for a fortune one day and go live on a yacht somewhere?” Bucky sipped at his champgane with a smirk.

Steve laughed along with him. “Not likely. Don’t know how much longer I can stay in advertising, to be honest.” he wriggled his toes in the sand and looked away from Bucky, swilling his champagne around the plastic flute. “It’s getting further and further away from what imagined it would be. Everything’s based on algorithms and data mining, targeting individuals and playing on their specific insecurities nowadays.”

Bucky recalled what Steve had told Becca and Rob yesterday about trying to only advertise products and brands he believed in, and bluntly refusing to do any advertising or graphic design for political campaigns he disagreed with; even if it meant alienating half of their client pool in DC. Steve clearly had very strong morals and Bucky admired him for that.

“You’re not the reason I get six hundred adverts popping up on facebook after I google something once, then?” Bucky teased.

Steve pulled a face that looked somewhat pained. “We stay out of social media advertising and try and do minimum web development, but as Sam keeps reminding me, it’s not a sustainable business model. Whatever happened to good old fashioned billboards and print media?” he sighed.

“Still better than politics, though?”

“Oh, for sure. But they’re probably more closely linked than you think. Politics is just a big advertising game after all; they’re just selling a message rather than a product.”

“Whoever shouts loudest generally wins,” Bucky agreed.

“Sad but true. And with targeted marketing, you don’t even have to shout loud – you just need to shout at the right people. There’s something very insidious about advertising that way.”

“’Insidious’ seems like a strong word.”

“But it is!” Steve countered, he balanced his champagne glass in the sand and turned to face Bucky, clearly animated by the issue. “Take an advert on the metro, for instance. Everyone on that carriage sees the same poster; the message is indiscriminate. Sure you can aim it towards a certain audience, but you can’t control who sees it beyond people likely take that route. But the adverts on your phone are targeted just to _you_. You could see something completely different to the person sitting next to you. Even if it’s selling the same thing, you could get two wildly contrasting iterations depending on your identity and whatever the algorithms have decided about your biases. It’s deceptive. Sinister.” Steve looked really angry at the prospect. “The worst thing is people don’t even realise they’re being sold very specific lies, and they don’t know that the person sitting next to them is being sold something completely different.” He looked personally offended by the prospect. It was oddly charming to hear him talk about something he obviously cared so much about, especially as it was something Bucky had never really given much thought to before. Sure, Bucky knew the theory behind the ads that popped up all over his social media accounts, but beyond constantly clicking to ‘accept cookies’, on every website he visited he’d never stopped to wonder what it all might mean.

“It’s only a matter of time before we get digital metro ads and billboards, probably with facial recognition software that means they can be targeted just as much as the adverts in your phone are, but,” Steve sighed again and reached for his champagne. “I’m holding onto the print world for as long as I can.”

“You really think that’ll happen?”

“Oh, for sure.”

“What’ll you do then?”

“Retire.” He gave Bucky a knowing smile. “Probably to a little town in the pacific northwest, if they still have libraries.”

“In this dystopian future where billboards are out to get us? There probably aren’t any libraries any left. I’m setting you up to fail, sending you off to a dying industry, aren’t I?” Bucky chuckled.

“Don’t worry, by then climate change will have killed us all anyway.” Steve returned, only half laughing. “Olive?” he held out the container towards Bucky, not so subtly dropping the conversation. Bucky let it slide. It was too much of a nice day to spoil it with big important topics like climate change and impending Orwellian futures.

“Don’t mind if I do.” Bucky picked an especially plump green olive and plopped it into his mouth. He didn’t mean to be a tease with the way he sucked the brine coating from his fingers afterwards, but when he noticed that Steve was staring, keeping his eyes trained on Bucky’s mouth and fingers, Bucky began to play it up a little. He smacked his mouth around a cherry tomato and made a show of scooping humous with his finger before sucking at it slowly.

Steve cleared his throat loudly and forced his eyes away, clattering around inside the cool box to see what other food they hadn’t dug into yet. Bucky dropped the act, feeling a little guilty for the way the back of Steve’s neck had gone incredibly red. Either they needed more sunscreen or he was blushing something fierce.

“Caviar?” Steve asked, still a little pink around the ears. He handed over a divided container with black gloop in one side and little squares of fancy crunchy toast in the other.

Bucky eyed it suspiciously. “Not sure I’ve ever actually had caviar before,” he admitted, using a tiny silver spoon to spread the black spheres across the bread.

“It’s overrated in my opinion.” Steve shrugged, watching for Bucky’s reaction as he bit down on the toast. Bucky expected the caviar to taste like fishy jelly. Instead it crunched unexpectedly, and quite unpleasantly, in his mouth. He pulled a face that was far from flirtatious and chewed it round his mouth, really unsure if he liked it or not. Steve laughed at Bucky’s expression. “Didn’t know it was gritty.” Bucky swallowed quite reluctantly and washed it down with a long swig of champagne. “Ugh. Adding that to the list of rich-people-things-I-don’t-understand.”

“You have a whole list?” Steve was still laughing as he reached to top up Bucky’s glass with the last of the bottle.

“Yup. That’s right up there with skiing and buying all new Christmas decorations every year.” Bucky took another long drink of champagne and tried to wash out the taste with a handful of olives.

Steve gave a hoot of laughter. “Right? What’s wrong with recycling the same broken baubles each year? I’ll never forget one time Peggy’s mum wanted to re-upholster the sofa just so that it would match that years green and gold Christmas theme.”

“Ridiculous.”

“Truly.” Steve laughed.

Bucky nibbled at more of the cured meats and shrimp cocktail (leaving the caviar firmly untouched) and laughed with Steve about more traditions and conventions they’d never understand. 

It was, without a doubt, the best picnic of Bucky’s life. The more Bucky got to know Steve, the more he liked him and as they sat side by side – faces tilted to the sun, slowly demolishing the fancy finger food spready out between them – the lines between ‘daytrip’ and ‘date’ began to blur in Bucky’s mind. He had to remind himself that as romantic as the whole thing was engineered to be, it hadn’t been planned with Bucky in mind.

Steve wasn’t making the distinction easy for Bucky though, reaching out to swipe a smear of melted chocolate from the corner of Bucky’s mouth, letting their fingers brush as they passed the containers between them, and staring at Bucky with such an affectionate gaze.

Bucky’s heart gave a trill of delight whenever he caught Steve staring at him, and he knew it wasn’t the short-lived, ephemerality of it all that was making Bucky feel this way. Bucky was fairly certain that his feelings for Steve would only grow, no matter how long they spent together.

“I’m glad your room was double booked.” Steve said softly, unprompted and unexpected; breaking the pleasant quiet which had lulled between them.

Bucky blinked, surprised by the admission, and not sure what it meant.

“I’m glad I met you, Bucky Barnes.”

“I’m glad I met you too, Steve Rogers.” Bucky echoed Steve’s odd formality with a puzzled smile. He waited for Steve to elaborate, but Steve just gave him a warm smile before turning his gaze back to the sea.

Bucky continued to stare after Steve, confused, but hopeful. Really, he asked himself, was it the end of the world if he let himself imagine that this was a date?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm rying to post a new chapter each weekend, so check back next week!  
(Also, sorry if you're waiting for updates on my other wips, but I'm on a roll with this story and won't be updating those until this one is finished, sorry!).


	18. Steve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your comments are all amazing! Thank you so much <3  
(ps Sorry if this chapter feels a little disjointed, I've written in bits and pieces over a very busy week spent travelling across the country for concerts and christmas markets! And half of the things that I planned to happen in this chapter ended up not fitting in here, oops!)

“I’m glad I met you Bucky Barnes.” Steve said, as nonchalantly as he could, being overly formal to mask the true weight behind his words.

Bucky gave Steve a puzzled look, but returned the sentiment with a smile. “I’m glad I met you too, Steve Rogers.”

Their meeting had been surprisingly fortuitous, and Steve was still grappling with how grateful he was that Bucky had convinced him to stay. More than that, Bucky had welcomed Steve into his holiday, into his family dinner – and more than anything, he hadn’t balked at Steve’s minor breakdown yesterday evening. Steve wanted to thank him, but how exactly did you thank someone for physically holding you together? Bucky had given Steve the space he needed to feel broken and cry it through, soothing him so that even though Steve’s heart felt shattered, the pieces couldn’t fall very far. And now, basking under the sun and picking through an accidentally very romantic picnic, Steve was already beginning to piece the shards back together.

He let himself stare at Bucky for a moment and admired not just his aesthetically pleasing bone structure, the soft waves of his hair, or the taut lines of his body; but the resilience and charm that shone from his eyes. Bucky had bounced back from a panic attack that would have left Steve reeling for hours in a matter of minutes, and hadn’t let it overshadow the rest of the morning. Steve felt utterly foolish for not taking better consideration of Bucky’s trauma when he’d planned the trip. _Sea caves_, he chastised himself. He knew Bucky had had to have some kind of PTSD after what had happened in Deh Bala, even though Steve didn’t know the specifics; that kind of ordeal would leave more than just physical scars. Bucky said he hadn’t known it would be a trigger, but the fact that it hadn’t even occurred to Steve beforehand felt like a callous oversight.

“What?” Bucky asked with a slight laugh as he Steve continued to stare at him.

“Nothing.”

Bucky didn’t looked convinced, but Steve couldn’t pull his gaze away; Bucky was staggeringly beautiful. If Steve had thought to pack his sketch book he’d have asked to sketch Bucky sprawled out under the sun. As it was, he had to make do with memories.

“Shall we clear this away and swim?” If he couldn’t sketch he needed to be doing something with his hands. Bucky might have been able to lie around and do nothing all day, but Steve got restless if he stayed still for too long.

“Sure. Might need you to sunscreen my back again, think I’m catching the sun a little bit.”

It was true, Bucky’s face was starting to flush a little from the sunlight, and a smattering of freckles were beginning to dawn across his cheeks and nose like mini constellations.

They shoved everything back into the cool box unceremoniously and stowed it back in the boat, before grabbing their swimming things from the compartment under the bench. Bucky, sensibly, was already wearing his trunks, but Steve hadn’t been so smart. He kept his back turned to Bucky as he quickly stripped and changed. He didn’t feel self-conscious, but he was very _aware_ of Bucky standing behind him as he changed, even if Bucky had promised to keep looking the other way. Sure enough, Bucky was dutifully staring at the ocean waves when Steve turned back, tying up the drawing string on his shorts as he did so. But the slight upturn at the corner of Bucky’s mouth told Steve that he might have sneaked a peak. Steve didn’t mind in the slightest, but he still got his own back by poking at all of the particularly sensitive spots on Bucky’s back that the masseuse had discovered the day before.

“Oh _fuck_, stop it,” Bucky laughed, breathless, squirming away from Steve’s hands.

“I’m just making sure you’re covered,” Steve grinned, innocently.

“Sure you are,” Bucky deadpanned. He upended his own bottle of sunscreen and tipped a liberal amount onto his hand; smearing it across his chest, shoulders and adding a fresh dollop to do his face. “It is all rubbed in?” he squinted up at Steve.

“Nearly.”

There was a large streak down the side of his nose and a swipe across his chin that he’d missed. Steve lifted his hand to cup Bucky’s face and wipe the residual sunscreen away with a soft brush from the pad of his thumb. His hand slotted perfectly against the curve of Bucky’s jaw, like it had been made for it. Steve let his hand linger longer than he should, marvelling at the notion.

“Steve, stop it.” Bucky saw with a long exhale. He pressed his eyes closed and when he opened them again, they looked almost pained.

Steve went to snatch his hand back, but Bucky’s hand came up to clasp his elbow and keep it in place for a moment more.

“I like you. I _really_ like you.” Bucky said with a quiet trepidation. “I thought I’d made my position clear when I tried to kiss you yesterday. And I know you’re not ready. I know it’s too soon. But you have to stop this,”

“What?” Steve was still stuck on Bucky’s admission that he _really _liked him.

“Leading me on.” Bucky said, letting go of Steve’s arm and letting his hand fall away.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean…” Fuck, Steve couldn’t even from sentences anymore. His mind was reeling. He wasn’t intentionally misleading Bucky, he just didn’t know what he wanted.

“I know you don’t mean to.” Bucky said with a reassuring smile, albeit one that looked a little fraught. “And if all you want is company for the next ten days, then I’m fine with that. I’ll try my hardest to keep my hands to myself and my thoughts from wandering, but,” he grimaced. “You have to stop sending out mixed messages, I can’t cope with that.”

“I’m sorry,” was all Steve could say again. In truth he had no clue what he wanted. He decided he might as well be honest; honesty had worked well with Bucky so far. “I don’t know what I want.” He admitted, hoping it didn’t make him sound selfish. “I like you too,” he added. “But, I can’t get into a new relationship right now.”

“I’m not asking for a relationship,” Bucky tried. “We both go back to our lives next week, I’m not asking for anything long term.

“Then what?”

“Fun? Whilst we’re here? A fling?” he was grinning. “A tryst?”

It was tempting but…“I don’t know if I can do that, I’ve never been very good at causal,” Steve admitted.

“I never said anything about casual,” Bucky countered, “Just…temporary.”

Steve swallowed the lump in his throat. Bucky made it sound so easy and carefree. “What if I get too attached?”

“You won’t. By the time you leave, you’ll be sick of the sight of me.” Bucky laughed.

Steve shook his head and couldn’t fight the impulse to reach for Bucky’s face again. “I don’t think that’s possible.”

Bucky leant into Steve’s hand, and looked up at Steve through his lashes. Steve wanted so desperately to be able to say yes, to close the distance between them and kiss Bucky. But he wasn’t sure he could take any more heartache, and Steve couldn’t see any other way for this ‘fling’ or ‘tryst’ to end. One of them was going to end up getting hurt.

“I’m sorry. I can’t.”

“Okay.” A flicker of pain crossed Bucky’s face, and _fuck_, Steve exhaled. He wasn’t prepared for that. He was going to wind up hurting Bucky either way, wasn’t he? Steve was paralysed by indecision and uncertainty. He wanted kiss Bucky, he wanted to give them a chance, but in the end he missed the moment. Bucky turned his head into Steve’s hand a placed a tender kiss in the palm of Steve’s hand before he ducked away and put a few paces of distance between them. “Let’s swim.” All traces of hurt or disappointment were wiped from Bucky’s face in an instant, replaced by a bright, wide smile that Steve wasn’t sure he could trust anymore. He really didn’t want to hurt Bucky, but this way would hurt less, wouldn’t it?

Steve ought to have felt guilty all afternoon, there ought to have been an awkward tension in the air between them; but Bucky acted as easy and carefree with Steve as he had the day before. It turned out there were shoals of bright tropical fish flitting through the rocks clustered at the edges of the bay, and whilst neither of them had had the foresight to pack a snorkel, Bucky’s phone was waterproof. They took it in turns to swim after the fish and try to video them with their eyes closed, laughing at the footage of lots of sand and feet, and favouriting the clips that actually contained a few fish. Bucky took some photos of Steve as well, and a couple of selfies of their pair of them, before running his phone back up the beach to deposit it on his towel, and diving back into the surf to pull Steve down into the water with him.

For a while it was easy not to worry about what was or wasn’t between them, or what might happen a week on Sunday when Steve had to fly home. As the sun tracked across the sky, dipping down towards the horizon and bathing them in a warm golden glow, it was easy just to enjoy the moment.

“We should probably head back soon. You’ve got to get ready for the dinner.” Steve suggested, pulling a t-shirt back on and dragging a hand through his sandy, salt-crispy hair.

“Oh shit, yeah.” Bucky dug around for his phone. “Fuck it’s nearly 6. Yeah, we should go. Thank you – though. For today. It’s been amazing.”

Steve could only smile.

Together they packed up their belongings and pushed the boat back out into the surf, Steve directed Bucky to take the helm and steer the boat through the waves as Steve pushed it out beyond the break line, before vaulting over the side and taking control; revving the engine and propelling them out of the bay in a smooth arc. He drove slower on the way back, reluctant to part for the evening, and enjoying the way the setting sun was turning the whole horizon pink.

Steve couldn’t delay forever, though, and all too soon he was mooring the speed boat back on the docks at the resort and slowly unpacking their belongings.

“Wait,” Bucky reached out for Steve’s arm to stop him from marching back up the drive towards the hotel. Steve stilled and let Bucky drag him back to the harbour wall, gazing out over the view. The tiny port was on the north side of the island, and though they couldn’t see the sun actually sinking into the sea, the light wrapped around the headland and set the sea awash with a golden pink warmth. The little wisps of cloud were turned a vivid red and sky sunk through orange to lilac. It was beautiful. So was the way the soft light caught in the curls of Bucky’s hair and danced as reflections in his eyes.

“Alright, now I really _am_ going to be late,” Bucky laughed. He finally let go of Steve’s arm and began to jog up the winding track towards the main entrance of the hotel. A wide gravel drive swept round in a semicircle, illuminated by old fashioned style lamps. They hopped up the three shallow steps that led up to the pillar lined entrance, and hurried across the polished marble floor of the lobby. It was rapidly approaching 7pm. Bucky tapped the button for an elevator a little frantically and practically vibrated on the spot as they watched numbers track down from 7 to 1. The doors pinged open – on Rob and Becca.

There was a moment of quiet as both pairs took in the sight of on another: Rob and Becca dressed up immaculately for the dinner in soft grey and rose gold; and Steve and Bucky clearly just back from the beach.

“James Buchanan Barnes!” Becca shouted.

“Oh fuck.” Bucky shoved Steve in Becca’s path and took off for the stairs, shouting back, “I’ll be ready!” as he skidded across the floor.

Steve found himself directly in the path of Becca’s glare. It was quite a thing to behold.

“Sorry, it’s my fault,” he found himself apologising. “He’ll be ready.”

“He’d better be.” Was all she said before storming off across the lobby with a murderous, yet regal glide.

Rob arched an eyebrow at Steve, and then shrugged; his face was an unreadable mix of amusement, annoyance and affection. “She’s not normally this cross,” he defended Becca. “It’s,”

“The wedding.”

“The wedding, yeah.” He shook his head and smiled. “I’ll be glad when this is all over tomorrow.” He added. “I just can’t wait for her to be my _wife_.” He sounded a little giddy, then seemed to remember who he was talking to and pulled himself together with a cough. “Sorry. um,”

“Good luck for tomorrow,” Steve smiled, trying not to feel jealous about how obviously happy the pair of them were. “I hope it all goes to plan.”

“Thanks. You know – you can come if you’d like? I’m sure it’d be okay,”

“No thank you.” Steve declined before Rob could get himself into trouble, Bucky had already explained than Becca didn’t want him there, for valid reasons, and to be honest, the last place Steve wanted to be right now was at a wedding.

“Okay, well, the offer stands.” They swapped places so that Steve was standing in the elevator holding the door and Rob was lingering in the lobby. “Um, do try and make sure Bucky’s not too late? Or even I might start getting annoyed,” he laughed.

“I’ll try.”

“Thanks. See you around!”

He departed with a wave and Steve let the doors close with a soft whoosh.

Bucky was frantically hopping around with one leg in his suit trousers and the other trying to wrangle it’s way in, when Steve opened the door. For some unfathomable reason, he’d opted to put his shoes on first.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.” He was muttering under his breath.

“So, James, huh?” Steve said unhelpfully, propping himself against the wall and watching Bucky struggle for a moment.

“You didn’t seriously think my parents christened me ‘Bucky’ did you?” He paused to laugh at Steve before resuming his battle with his trousers.

“It’s not the oddest name I’ve come across,” Steve shrugged.

Bucky gave him an arched eyebrow of disbelief. “Becca called me Bucky when we were little, and it stuck.” He explained, though he really didn’t have to. Steve rolled Bucky’s full name round his mind: James Buchanan Barnes; It had a nice ring to it, and solved the mystery of ‘JB’. “Anything I can do to help?” He pushed himself off the wall and walked into the room.

“Can’t find my tie or the damn cufflinks,” Bucky replied, finally shimmying his way into his trousers and fastening them closed.

Steve glanced around the chaos of Bucky’s ransacked suitcase and spotted a blue-silver tie, almost the same shade as Bucky’s eyes, lying under the bed. He reached down to fetch it and looped it round his own neck to get the knot ready for Bucky. He tied it into a double windsor with swift, sure movements before loosening it and draping it over Bucky’s head for him as Bucky tried to button up his shirt with shaking hands.

“And cufflinks are on the side.” Where Bucky had carefully placed them that morning, knowing he would be likely to lose them in the chaos of getting ready. “Here, let me.” Steve caught Buck by the sleeve and carefully threaded the cuff closed. “Deep breaths?”

“Yeah, yeah” Bucky waved away Steve’s concern but did proceed to take a deep breath and drag a shaky hand through his hair. “I look like a fucking mess.”

“No you don’t.” The sea salt and sun had dried his hair into a big textured wave that swept across his forehead, in the kind of style that people might pay a fortune for. “You look fine.”

“Really?”

“Really.” Steve fastened the second cufflink and straightened Bucky’s tie for him. “Jacket?”

“On the bed.” Steve stepped around Bucky to pick it up and helped Bucky shrug it onto his shoulders, taking time to smooth out the creases at the collar and hoping he wasn’t overstepping the mark by rubbing his hands across the slope of Bucky’s strong arms

“Perfect.”

“Thanks.” Bucky crossed to the door, pausing with his hand on the handle. “I have no idea how late it’ll finish, I suspect the guys will want to treat tonight like Rob’s bachelor party part two. Don’t wait up.”

“Okay.”

Still, Bucky lingered.

“Will you be alright this evening? On your own.”

“Buck, I’ll be fine.”

Bucky glanced over his shoulder, peering at Steve with an expression Steve really couldn’t read, no matter how much he wanted to.

“Okay. See you.” He smiled and then ducked out of the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They're still going to get together eventually, don't worry - the tags don't lie. It's just an even slower burn than I'd expected!


	19. Bucky

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay! It's been a busy week and weekend. It's still in the window of the weekend though ;P  
As always, thank you so much for all of your comments, they're giving the inspiration to power forward with this fic which had spiralled rapidly out of control and is always way beyond my initial word count estimate! Thank you! <33333

Bucky was a little out of breath when he reached the private dining room, which had less to do with the fact that he’d sprinted from the elevator, and more to do with the memory of Steve fastening his cufflinks for him. _Fuck_, Bucky sighed, screwing his eyes shut and struggling to compose himself; that man didn’t know how to be anything other than intense. Steve wasn’t doing it on purpose, Bucky was pretty sure of that, especially after their conversation on the beach. Steve had looked so innocently shocked at the realisation he might have been accidentally leading Bucky on. The man was over six foot and a solid wall of muscle, how was it possible for him to have looked so fucking sweet?

Bucky cleared the image from his mind and tugged at the sleeves of his jacket, trying to ignore how sticky and uncomfortable he felt under the suit. He didn’t regret staying to watch the sunset with Steve, the image of the fire pink sky was still etched firmly in his mind’s eye, but he sorely wished there had been time to have a shower as well. Hoping beyond hope that he wasn’t still sporting lots of sand in his hair, he took a deep breath and pushed into the room. By some small miracle, everyone was still milling around drinking champagne which allowed Bucky to slip in quietly and unnoticed. The hotel had been specifically designed for weddings and honeymoons in mind, which meant there was an entire wing of the ground floor given over to private reception rooms intended to host rehearsal dinners, private functions, and even the wedding breakfast if a storm like yesterday meant the beach was off-limits. The room Becca and Rob had chosen, the ‘Laceleaf Suite’ was designed for between sixteen and thirty guests. It was decked out with tall vases of the namesake flower and opened out onto a small private terrace which looked out over the path winding down to the private beach where the wedding would take place tomorrow. The sky outside was no longer a brilliant pink, fading quickly into the deep twilight blue, and the doors were thrown open to let the cool night air filter through the room. A large oval table took centre stage in the room with a pair of fancier high-backed chairs in the middle for Becca and Rob. A side table draped with a flowing white table cloth stood by the terrace doors laden with two silver trays of champagne or sparkling apple juice. The champagne tray was almost empty.

Bucky slipped across the room, giving Becca’s arm a reassuring squeeze as he sidled past her to fetch himself a glass of apple juice; his nerves needed to settle before he got any more drunk, or else his toast was going to be a complete disaster. He took a sip from the tall flute and glanced around the room, recognising most of the guests from Becca’s various New Year’s Eve and Fourth of July parties: there were a group of ladies from Becca’s office, a few friends from her course, Rob’s college roommate, and some of his fellow teachers, along with some old friends Bucky recognised from high school. Apart from Rob’s two cousins and Bucky, there weren’t any other family members present. (There’d be a separate family gathering for Rob’s parents, aunts, uncles and grandparents when they got back home; when the imbalance of family members wouldn’t be so painfully obvious). It was easy enough for Bucky to mingle between them, clinking glasses and receiving hugs until he spotted a very familiar and welcome face that he hadn’t seen in years.

“Barton,” Bucky grinned, giving Clint a jab with his elbow as he approached. “Didn’t think you’d be able to make it.”

“And miss seeing Little Protractor get married? Not for the world.” Clint grinned, using one of his many nicknames for Rob. “Good to see you, Barnes.” He pulled Bucky in for a hug, narrowly avoiding sloshing champagne all down Bucky’s back.

“You too.” Bucky gave him a clap on the shoulder and pulled away to get a good look at him. As always, Clint’s face was marred was scrapes and bruises. This time he had a couple of steri-strips pinching the skin above his cheekbone together, and the fading bruises from a black eye.

“Still starting fights, I see. Nice shiner.” Bucky commented.

“I didn’t start it this time.”

“But you finished it.”

“Always.” Clint sounded proud. He’d always been disproportionately pleased of his scrapes and bruises, even as kids climbing trees (and falling out of trees) in grade school. He’d been in Robert’s year – a couple of years younger than Bucky – but when you grew up in a rural neighbourhood like they had, age mattered less than having someone to ride your bike around with looking for trouble. Like Bucky, he’d done a stint in the army and they’d crossed paths and few times on bases overseas, and like Bucky he’d also been discharged on medical grounds after a concussion grenade blew out his hearing. Since then he’d moved to New York and bounced around between jobs; never settling in anything for very long, but somehow managing to keep hold of an apartment in Brooklyn. It was thanks to Clint’s spare room that Bucky had been able to get his degree from NYU; the army helped fund tuition and gave a stipend for text books, but city living was far too damn expensive for Bucky to have considered it otherwise.

That had been almost three years ago, and they’d barely seen each other since then. It was easy to fall into a conversation, catching up on everything that had happened since, laughing and smiling at Clint’s rambling and entertaining anecdotes, right up until the main course had been cleared away and Bucky felt Becca’s eyes boring into him from across the table. Right, his speech.

Nerves swooped through Bucky’s stomach as he stood up and tapped his spoon lightly against his wine glass, sending a high-pitched chime cutting through the conversations and catching everyone’s attention. He cleared his throat and smiled, trying to bluff the casual confidence which had once come so easily to him. It had been easy to feel confident about his speech whilst lying on the sand with Steve, it was quite another now that he had twenty pairs of eyes looking expectantly up at him. “Hi everyone,” he glanced up and down the table. “It’s really great to see so many of you here.” It really was, he felt so proud of Becca for having surrounded herself with so many people that cared about her this much. “I’m Bucky Barnes, and as the brother of the bride and one of the groom’s oldest friends I’m in the unique position of having plenty of embarrassing stories about both of them,” there was a smattering of laughter. “Unfortunately, I’ve promised that most of them will never see the light of day, so…” There was more laughter and Bucky smiled, so far it was going well. “You’ll have to ply me with drinks at the bar later,” he finished with a grin as Becca shook her head and glared fondly at him. “I’ve never held much store by the notion of true love.” Bucky began his speech in earnest, not missing the concerned squint Becca flashed his way. And yeah, okay – maybe that wasn’t the best opening for a wedding toast, but he had a plan. He smiled smugly as Becca looked worried about where he was going with his speech. “Especially not the Hollywood-ised trope that falling in love will magically solve all of your problems, or that life can be summed up with a neat ‘and they lived happily ever after’. Well, it goes back further than Hollywood, actually. It was Shakespeare who wrote: ‘journey’s end in lovers meeting’, and no offence to the guy – I’m sure he knew what he was talking about in lots of respects, but I’m definitely going to have to disagree with him there.

“Becca and Rob met in middle school, and I’m pretty sure Becca’s been in love with Rob ever since she came home from softball practise harping on about this guy who’d managed to return her screwball pitch. But that definitely wasn’t the end of their journey, that was just the very beginning.” Bucky risked another glance at Becca whose expression had settled into something more trusting. Bucky grinned and pressed on. “They’ve been through a lot together, already they’ve faced more setbacks than most people expect to last a lifetime; helping each other through loss, financial uncertainty – hell, they’ve both had to put up with _me_ and all my problems,” Bucky laughed along with everyone else. “But they’ve been steadfast through it all, and I’m just really – proud – of the people they’ve helped each other become.” Becca looked like she was ready to cry, and Bucky felt himself welling up a little. “If there is such a thing as true love, then I’m pretty sure they’re the real deal.” He ran a finger inside his collar to loosen it slightly. “As the older brother I always thought it was my responsibility to look out for Becca, teach her how to navigate the world. But other than showing her how to deck someone without breaking her thumb – there really hasn’t been that much I ever needed to teach you. Together, the pair of you have taught _me_ more about compassion and kindness and love then I could ever have learned otherwise. And I think it’s a testament to both your characters that this many of your friends would be willing to give up precious days of holiday and travel this far to see you get married.” Everyone laughed again and Becca buried her face in her hands to hide a blush. “I’ve known since your junior prom that the two of you would get married someday, and even though it took Rob _three years_ to work up to courage to propose to you after he’d set his mind to it, I’m glad it’s finally happening.” He raised his glass in a toast to the pair of them, “to Becca and Rob, congratulations on your wedding tomorrow. I’m really excited to see where the rest of your journey takes you, and I wish you both a world of happiness. You deserve it.”

“To Becca and Rob,” everyone chanted back, with wide smiles and raised glasses. Bucky drained his champagne and went to sit down, but Becca had thrown herself out of her chair and rushed to hug him before he had the chance. It took a quick save on his part not to drop his glass as she pushed all of the air from his lungs and squeezed him hard around the middle.

“Was that alright?” he asked, telling himself that it was okay, he didn’t really need to breathe.

“Jerk, you’ve made me ruin my makeup.” She complained lightly, speaking directly into his chest.

Bucky just laughed and planted a kiss on top of her hair. When she peeled herself off him, he saw that her mascara was getting smudged under her eyes. She used the side of her finger to lightly dab it away.

“I meant every word,” he grinned, going for full sap. “Love you.”

Becca used her free hand to give Bucky a soft punch on his good shoulder (fist curled in perfect form, just like he’d taught her). “Love you too,” she gave a huff of laughter that might also have been a sniff and retreated to her own seat, where Rob instantly found her hand and laced his fingers with hers. He grinned at Bucky and gave him a nod of thanks before Bucky could finally sit down, and await the ribbing he was surely going to get from Clint for being such a sentimental dork.

=

As expected, the dinner lasted well into the night and although Becca and her bridesmaids turned in early so they’d been fresh and ready for the morning, the guys forced Rob into the bar. When someone suggested tequila shots, Bucky knew they were in for a messy night.

“I’ve missed this,” Clint slurred over Bucky, with his arm looped around Bucky’s neck. “You need to come visit me in New York again.”

“I will. Promise.” Bucky slurred back. “Your spare room still free?”

“Nah, it’s let at the moment.”

Bucky feigned surprise. “You found someone other than me who can put with your questionable hours and disgusting habits?” He laughed.

“She keeps even more questionable hours than I do.”

“She?” Bucky wriggled a suggestive eyebrow, which Clint ignored.

“Yeah, Nat. Says she’s a dancer, but I think she might be a spy. Russian. Drinks me under the table.”

“That’s not hard.”

Clint just laughed at that. “She is a pretty great dancer though.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Ballet. Gets me to partner for her at home sometimes. Says I make a better counterweight than the wall.”

“High praise.” Bucky laughed. “You two together?”

“No, no, god no. Just friends. Actually, fuck that. We’re friends. No ‘just’.” Clint corrected himself. “I hate that the ‘friendzone’ gets painted as something negative. We watch movies, drink beer, talk about the existentiality of human existence. She lets me braid her hair and paints my toenails when she gets bored. Wouldn’t trade our friendship for anything. So much better than just sleeping with someone.”

Bucky wished he could share Clint’s sentiment, but it was difficult when every single thing someone did was hardwired to make him want to kiss them. Bucky didn’t actually mean to say any of that out loud.

“Fuck, sounds like you’ve got it bad for someone.”

Bucky groaned and sipped his cocktail.

“What’s his name?”

“Steve,” Bucky sighed. Unfortunately, Rob was in hearing distance and almost tripped over himself to join in their conversation.

“Are we talking about Steve?” He slumped down next to Bucky, letting out a soft ‘ope’ as he bumped against Bucky’s shoulder. “Sorry,” he gave the shoulder an uncoordinated pat which made Bucky smile. “Steve’s a good guy. Very good guy.” Rob said with the very exaggerated head movements he adopted when he was drunk. “I invited him tonight y’know? But he – declined.” He struggled to form the word in his mouth.

“What, he’s _here_?” Clint asked.

“Yeah.” Bucky gave an abridged run down of events since they’d landed, with Rob helpfully chipping in about the game of chicken and their dinner yesterday evening. Seemed like Becca wasn’t the only one with a slightly overeager obsession with Steve.

Clint let out a low whistle once Bucky had finished. “You’ve definitely got it bad.”

“I know.” Bucky all but pouted. He fisted his hand in his hair, thinking back to what Clint had said about not dismissing friendship “Does it make me a bad person? For still wanting more when I know he’s not ready?”

“Not automatically.” Clint was quick to reassure him. Rob nodded along enthusiastically. “Are you only being friendly ‘cause you think he’ll sleep with you eventually?”

“What? No.”

“And will you be annoyed if nothing happens between you before you go home?”

“At myself, maybe. Not with Steve.”

Clint smiled and clapped Bucky on the shoulder, a little more forcefully than necessary. “You’re not a bad person, Barnes. You’ve just got a crush.”

Bucky nodded, mildly reassured.

“What you need,” Clint leant forwards conspiratorially. “Is to get laid, take your mind off him completely.”

“Ugh, no thanks.” That was the _last_ thing Bucky wanted to do.

“Why not? Plenty of eligible people here.” He swept his arm to gesture around the bar.

“_No_.” The thought of hooking with anyone else made Bucky’s stomach roil. He didn’t particularly want to examine that reaction too closely, so he pushed the feeling down and shot Clint a very miserable look.

“Suit yourself.” Clint staggered to his feet and gave Bucky’s head a ruffle to well and truly mess up his hair.

“Where are you going?”

“Well _I’m_ not moping over a case of unrequited love.”

_Love_, Bucky scoffed, though he hadn’t missed the way Steve’s face had popped into his mind whenever he’d mentioned love in his speech for Becca and Rob. Bucky flushed and buried that lined of thinking before it could fully finish forming. He wasn’t _in love_ with Steve, that was ridiculous. He just had a crush. A crush he could definitely manage for another ten days.

“And I’ve got a fancy hotel room for the night, not going to waste it,” Clint continued with a grin before he slipped off towards the bar; headed for a woman in a striking red dress who was well and truly out of his league. Bucky and Rob watched Clint get mercilessly shot down, and couldn’t help but fall over themselves laughing. When Rob actually proceeded to fall off his chair, Bucky thought it best to call it a night.

“Alright, Rob. You can’t be _too_ hungover tomorrow.”

Bucky rounded up the best man, Rob’s college roommate, to help carry Rob up to his room on the fourth floor where Rob was spending the night (Becca and her bridesmaid’s having stolen the honeymoon suite for their preparations tomorrow morning). The best man stumbled around blindly and fell asleep fully clothed on the other side of the bed, so Bucky took it upon himself to see that Rob was carefully put to bed with a large bottle of water and multiple alarms set for the morning.

“Last night as a free man,” Bucky joked as he tucked Rob under the comforter.

Rob gave him a gigantic, dopey smile in response. “Can’t believe I get to marry her tomorrow.” He gushed, his eyes already half closed in sleep. It was always endearing to see just how much Rob loved Becca, and it never failed to warm Bucky’s heart.

“I know. Sleep well.”

Rob hummed as Bucky turned off the light and tip-toed from the room. He closed it behind him with a soft click, and lingered in the hallway, summoning his courage before continuing down the corridor to his own room. And Steve.

Thankfully Steve was already fast asleep, curled protectively around a pillow bunched under his arms. He’d left the bedside light on Bucky’s side of the room switched on for him and he even tidied up some of the clothes Bucky had left hopelessly strewn around the room. Bucky’s heart swelled and he took extra care not to make too much noise as he changed out of his suit and brushed his teeth. He placed his clothes back into his suitcase, noticing that Steve had now bothered to unpack all of his clothes into the wardrobe; leaving half of the available space for Bucky. Which was sweet, if entirely unnecessary; Bucky had no plan to unpack. He straightened out his belongings, and closed the lid of his suitcase, preparing to slip into bed, when a sketch book lying open on the coffee table caught his eye.

Bucky knew he shouldn’t pry – suspecting it might be a little like reading someone’s journal, but the page had been left wide open… he spun the book round, cautiously, and couldn’t help but smile at the picture carefully depicted with soft pencil strokes. Bucky saw himself standing waist deep in the ocean with gentle waves rippling around him and soft sunlight bouncing from his hair. The art style was somewhere between realism and cartoon, with just a trace of Disney-like charm framing Bucky’s features. It made him look like the hero of a beautifully detailed animated film. Bucky carefully snapped a picture of it on his phone, hoping the flash wouldn’t wake Steve, just in case Steve wouldn’t let him look at it again. No one had ever drawn Bucky before and it stirred something wonderful in his chest.

Making sure to carefully put the book back where he found it, Bucky switched off the bedside light and crawled into bed. He turned his back to Steve, curling around his own pillow like a mirrored book end, and fell as asleep quickly: dreaming of animated dolphins and heroic figures with hair blonder than the sun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Also, I'm from the UK and have never been to a reheasal dinner in my life, so apologies if I got it all totally wrong, I'm going from what you see in films! Where you have a pre-wedding dinner and some speeches...?)


	20. Bucky

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your comments!! <333  
Sorry there's not much Steve in this chapter again, I promise there's lots more of him in the next chapter!!!

Bucky was pulled from a pleasant dream by the loud, angry blare from the alarm on his phone. He swiped his hand blindly along the bedside table and pulled his phone towards him, silencing the noise with a lazy drag of his thumb. Fighting the urge to fall back asleep, Bucky rolled onto his back and adjusted to the prospect of waking up. It took him half a moment to realise the bed was empty beside him and that the shower was running. He wasn’t disappointed not to have woken up cuddled against Steve again; Bucky lied to himself. Not at all.

Burying his disappointment under a scowl he hauled himself up to slump against the headboard and scrolled through his phone to make sure his alarms were switched off and not just silenced; noticing a string of texts from Becca as he did. Each message used more exclamation points than the last, followed by half a dozen reaction gifs of people jumping and dancing around. Before he could reply another flood came though. Popping up with a speed and an intensity that Bucky’s sleepy fingers couldn’t keep up with.

_I’m getting married!!!! _

_Bucky, wake up and be excited with me._

_I’m!!! getting!!! married!!!_

_Buckyyyyy_

_you better not be too hungover today_

_I swear if you got Rob wasted last night im gonna [knife emoji] [knife emoji] [knife emoji]_

Bucky snorted a laugh, all traces of disappointment vanished as he remembered the reason for setting so many alarms: Becca’s big day. Thankfully he didn’t feel too hungover, a little tender, sure, but that was just the tequila which always left him feeling headsore the next morning. Deciding it was best not to comment on Rob’s state before he’d actually seen him, Bucky settled on sending back the most excited looking gifs he could find and promising her that at least _he_ wasn’t hungover. Hopefully Rob wouldn’t be too worse for wear, though Bucky was beginning to think he should have called it quits a few drinks earlier.

He flung his phone down onto the mattress and let himself roll out of bed, staggering over the minibar and tugging a hand through his hair as he went. It felt decidedly textured from the beach yesterday and Bucky knew tufts would remain sticking up where his fingers had move them, but he found it hard to care. His mouth felt like he’d been eating balls of cotton wool all night and his need for a drink of water trumped his desire to straighten his appearance; as much as it annoyed the small, vain, portion of his mind which wanted him to fix his hair before Steve could emerge from the bathroom. Bucky cracked open a cold bottle of water and opened the curtains to let the morning light spill into the room. He stood staring out of the window as he gulped it down, relieved to see that the good weather had lasted. Not caring that he was only dressed in his boxers, Bucky opened the balcony door and stepped out. The sun hadn’t hit the tiles yet and they feel cool beneath his feet. Bucky wriggled his toes against the sensation and leant out over the railing, peering around the side of the hotel to survey the broad expanse of horizon; it looked clear and tranquil with the promise of a beautiful day ahead. There would be no tropical storms ruining Becca’s perfect day.

Bucky left the balcony doors open and stepped back into the room, draining the last of the water bottle as he did. He screwed the lid back on and pitched it in an overarm throw to land neatly in the trashcan on the other side of the room, before his eyes fell on the empty coffee table. The sketch book had been tidied away somewhere, which probably meant Bucky wasn’t supposed to have seen the sketch from yesterday. Oops. Oh well, it was hard to feel guilty when the delight that Steve had sketched him still thrummed happily in Bucky’s chest. Made it difficult to broach the subject of asking to see the sketch again though. Or to see more of Steve’s work.

“Good morning.” Steve greeted him, stepping out of the bathroom still ruffling his hair with a towel. He was shirtless and wearing another pair of form fitting chino shorts. This time in a dark forest green. Bucky managed to clear his throat a return the good morning, sounding far more croaked than he liked, as Steve finished drying his hair and plucked a dark blue polo shirt from the wardrobe.

“Big day today.”

“Uh huh,” was all the eloquent response Bucky could manage. In his defence, it was pre-coffee, and Steve was wandering around looking like _that_.

“Bathroom’s all yours, thought I’d shower quickly so you can take as long as you need to get ready.” Steve said, thoughtful and considerate as always.

“Thanks.”

“What’s your plan for the day?”

Bucky ran a hand through his hair, messing it up even further. “Brunch with the groomsmen to get ready and take photos. Wedding's at noon, followed by drinks and more photos. Then the reception, speeches and partying late into the night.”

“Sounds fun.”

“Sounds _hot_. If the weather’s anything like yesterday, I’m gonna be sweltering in my suit.”

“Pity you can’t just strip off and swim,” Steve smirked.

“I just might,” Bucky laughed in return. “Can’t stop me from paddling at least, if the sea’s right there.” He didn’t care if he messed up his suit, though he suspected Becca wouldn’t be able to resist the temptation either; after the photos were taken of course. “What will you do?” Bucky asked, feeling a little remiss about leaving Steve alone all day.

“Swim? Read? Might sketch a little.”

Here was Bucky’s opening. “Oh yeah? What’ll you sketch?”

Steve went suddenly shy in the most endearing way. “Depends. On what take my eye. Here,” he plucked an envelope in the hotel’s stationary from the bedside table and thrust it to Bucky before Bucky had a chance to mull over Steve’s words, and the implication that he’d ‘caught Steve’s eye’.

“What’s this?”

_Becca & Rob_ was written in Steve’s neat handwriting across the front.

“A little wedding present for them. It’s nothing too exciting,” Steve went on to explain quickly. “Just a sketch of the hotel. Thought they might like it.”

Bucky held it reverently in his hands. “They’ll love it. Thank you.”

Steve shrugged and gave a shy smile.

Bucky tucked the envelope carefully under his phone, dismissing a notification for another string of gifs from Becca, before he hopped into the shower. He took his time scrubbing his hair and himself squeaky clean, giving himself a clean shave, and spending a long time styling his hair with product before he emerged. Steve was sitting on out the balcony with his legs kicked up on the railing, a book in one hand and a cup of coffee from the room’s questionable coffee-making facilities in the other. He looked peaceful and content, and Bucky realised it was silly to worry about leaving him alone. Just as it was daft to miss him. He’d only just met the guy, and they could spend the whole day together tomorrow. Bucky seriously needed to rein in his feelings.

“I’ll be back late,” he explained, hovering with a hand on the balcony door.

Steve leant back to give Bucky a smile over his shoulder. “Have fun. I hope it all goes okay. Neither of them strikes me as the type to get cold feet,” Steve laughed, only a little stilted.

“Especially not with all that hot sand underfoot.” Bucky returned with a smile. “Don’t wait up. And, enjoy your day.”

“Thanks, see you later.”

=

Brunch was a rather riotous affair. Thankfully Rob was too smitten to feel hungover, and he was in such a dopey, dreamy mood that he was oblivious to the light-hearted teasing of his groomsmen. Eventually they gave up trying to get anything out of him other than sheer delight, and his easy happiness permeated the room. By the time they were suited and booted, pocket squares and ties all present and correct, Bucky’s face was cracked into a wide smile that he couldn’t shake if he tried. Whilst the rest of the guys made their way towards the private beach set for the ceremony, Bucky headed up to the honeymoon suite to find Becca.

“Wow.” Was all he could say when he found her twirling in front of the open terrace doors. Her dress was long and floaty, lots of soft tulle draping from a fitted bodice with delicate off the shoulder sleeves. He’d seen her in the dress before, of course, but with her hair and make-up done properly to match, she was transformed. It was hard to believe that his baby sister, who forever had grass stains on her jeans and scrapes on her legs when they were kids, could look so grown up and elegant. The old ache in his chest twinged as he wished their mom and dad could have been there to see her. “Wow, Becs. You look so beautiful.”

In response she twirled some more and tossed her immaculately curled hair over her shoulder. It was loose and curly, but more carefully defined than it normally was, with little flowers threaded through to match her bouquet. “Thank you.”

“Oh great.” Bucky found himself being manhandled by a photographer with a surprisingly strong grip. “Let’s get a photo of the two of you together by the window…” Bucky let himself be posed and smiled wide. “Now one of you helping her with her necklace.”

“But she’s already wearing her necklace?”

“Oh, Bucky, just go with it,” Becca turned her back to him and lifted her hair with a delicate hand.

About six poses later the photographer left them to get an advanced position on the beach. There was a brief moment of panic when the maid of honour thought she’d lost an earring, but it was found on the dresser and they were all – mostly – ready to go.

“Let me just use the bathroom real quick,” Bucky hastened off, popping the button on his jacket in anticipation, and noticing the envelope from Steve in his inside pocket. “Oh, and here. It’s from Steve, he says congratulations.” He thrust it into Becca’s hands and disappeared into the second bathroom, picking his way around the multiple bags of makeup, discarded ‘I Do Crew’ dressing gowns and sets of hair straighteners to reach the toilet.

He double checked his reflection, giving his hair a final primp and preen and then they were all set. He took Becca’s arm in the elevator as they squeezed into the tight space, giving it a reassuring pat, more for his own benefit than anything else.

“Nervous?” The maid of honour asked.

“No.” Becca replied, sounding light as air. “Not at all. I thought I would be but, I’m just so happy.”

They followed a corridor off the lobby around to the back of the hotel and followed a path down to the separate beach reserved for weddings. It was lined with white washed stone pebbles and through the trees Bucky could see the dancing blue of the ocean.

“Wait,” Becca halted. “Give us a minute?” she asked her bridesmaids, clinging tight to Bucky’s arm.

“Becs?” he tried not to sound too worried. She didn’t _look_ scared or nervous.

“I wish mom and dad were here.” She said quietly once the bridesmaids were out of earshot.

Bucky’s heart cracked down familiar fault lines. “Oh, Becs.” he pulled her close, careful not to crease her dress or crush her hairdo. “Me too. They’d be so proud of you, y’know?”

“I know.” She looked up at him with her big old Barnes-blue eyes, trying ever so hard not to tear up and ruin her make-up. “I’m just so glad I got you back.” she dipped her head back against his chest and Bucky’s grip tightened around her reflexively. “I don’t tell you that enough.” She let him squeeze her before pulling back, taking both of his hands in hers and shaking them slightly.

“Hey it’s alright. I’m here.”

“I couldn’t cope thinking you were gone too, and I.”

“It’s okay.” He promised her, risking her hair by pressing a comforting hand on the back of her head, and bending down to kiss her parting like he always did.

“I love you.” she whispered.

“Love you too. Now let’s go get you married.”


	21. Bucky

The wedding was, without a doubt, the best wedding Bucky had ever attended. Not that he’d attended many, but even by movie standards, it seemed perfect. Bucky walked Becca down a boardwalk aisle in the sand towards an arch of flowers standing in front the sea. Rob started crying when he saw her, and Becca started crying when Rob made his vows. It was bittersweet, watching his little sister get married without his parents there to see it, but they had at least both got the chance to meet Rob, and Bucky knew they would have been really proud of the life Becca had built herself; Bucky could only hope that one day he’d find himself equally deserving. 

The rings were exchanged, the groom kissed the bride, and rose petals were showered over the happy couple. Many, many photos later (including a group shot of the wedding party ankle deep in the sea with their skirts and trousers hitched up around their calves), the drinks were flowing, and the toasts were making everybody laugh. The best man told all of the embarrassing stories about Rob which Bucky hadn’t been allowed to share, and the bridesmaids hosted a newlywed game which, unsurprisingly, Rob and Becca got every question correct.

Once desert had been cleared away, Rob and Becca opened the dance floor under an open-sided marquee filled with fairy light and flowers, and everyone cried a little as they danced their first dance to Alicia Key’s _If I Ain’t Got You_, which they’d first danced to at their junior prom.

Soon everyone else was up and dancing, the DJ did a good job of rolling out classics and floor-fillers which kept everyone on their feet, and jackets, ties, even shoes which hadn’t already been discarded quickly piled up on the table tops. Bucky managed to cut in with Becca for a jive to _Crazy Little Thing Called Love_, before sending her twirling back into Rob’s arms so he could jump and twist to _Footloose_ with Clint, both of them trying to remember the ridiculous routine they’d half concocted at their middle school formals. When Aerosmith and Run DMC faded into a slower Fleetwood Mac song, everyone seemed to magically couple up like it really was prom. Even Clint began to sway with Becca’s college friend who he’d been flirting shamelessly with all day. Bucky ducked towards the bar to fetch himself a strong drink and let his thoughts wander back to Steve for the first time since the morning; quietly lamenting the lost opportunity to dance with him.

Bucky’s eyes roved over the crowd as he sipped his drink and tapped his foot along to the beat, trying not to feel too bitter about that the fact that for the first time in a long time there was someone he _wanted_ to dance with, but couldn’t. His eyes tracked across the sandy beach beyond the glow of the marquee, up towards the back of the hotel, and froze when they alighted on a figure heading hesitantly towards them. He was silhouetted in the gloom, but Bucky would recognise those broad shoulders anywhere. For half a second, he thought his wishes had manifested into a full-blown hallucination, before common sense got the better of him. Steve stepped into the light and Bucky’s breath caught. God, he looked good in a suit, hair slicked back and that shy look in his eye so at odds with his strong, confident physique.

“Steve!” Bucky drained his drink in one throat-burning gulp and slipped around the edge of the dance floor towards him. He almost bowled Steve over with the force of his hug, only realising as he threw his arms at Steve that he’d probably had more than his fair share of prosecco throughout the day.

“Hey,” Steve staggered backwards in order to stay upright. “You look like you’re having a good time.”

“Even better now that you’re here,” Bucky said before his brain could catch up with his mouth. Thankfully Steve just laughed. “Why _are_ you here?” Bucky suddenly panicked. “Becca said she didn’t want –”

“It’s okay,” Steve cut him off. “Becca invited me.”

“What? When?”

“She called me this morning.”

Bucky gave him a puzzled look.

“She called the room and thanked me for the sketch. Told me to come down this evening – after the photos and speeches and everything were done, if I wanted to.” Steve explained with that adorably lopsided smile of his. Bucky didn’t quite understand, but when he glanced over his shoulder for confirmation from Becca, she gave him a salute and not-so-sly wink. She must have called Steve when Bucky was navigating the bathroom. He hadn’t spent _that_ long re-fixing his hair, had he? “Is that okay?” Steve suddenly sounded unsure.

“It’s perfect,” Bucky assured him. “C’mon let’s get you a drink. You need to catch up.”

Steve let himself be steered towards the bar and let Bucky order him a trio of vodka shots which he dutifully knocked back one by one.

“Whoo!” Bucky cheered, giving Steve a clap on the back. “How’re you feeling? Ready to dance?”

Steve dragged the back of his hand across his mouth and loosened his tie. “Lead the way.”

They joined the crowd clapping along to Pharrell’s _Happy,_ and Bucky found himself smiling so wide his cheeks physically ached. Steve was by no means a good dancer, but he was so earnest with it, like he was everything – Bucky was quickly beginning to realise – and it was a delight to watch him flail those big strong limbs and try to stay in time with the beat. What he lacked in grace he certainly made up for with heart, and hey, Bucky was a good enough dancer for the both of them.

_<<Is that him?>>_ Clint signed beneath the din of the music.

_<<Yeah>>_ Bucky signed back with a grin.

Clint pretended to fan his face with his hand, before adding with a very smug smirk, _<<Yeah, you’re not a bad person for wanting a piece of that>>_, and dancing away before Bucky could retaliate. Bucky sincerely hoped Steve didn’t know sign language, thankfully he looked too busy busting out some questionable vouge moves with Rob to have noticed, even if he did.

Bucky hadn’t realised something felt missing, but dancing beside Steve, messily shouting out the words to choruses they both knew, and watching Steve properly lose his inhibitions, the day felt finally, truly, perfect. Bucky tried to keep a respectful distance between them and stopped himself from slinging a hand round Steve’s waist and grinding their hips together like he wanted to during some of the songs, but he didn’t shy away from swaying his hips or grabbing Steve’s arms to spin and twirl when the music called for it.

A few drinks, and lots more questionable dance moves later, Bucky was on his way to losing any lingering nerves about dancing with Steve and by the time the DJ dropped the _Grease Mega Mix_ which was an eternal staple at all of their house party playlists, Bucky felt no shame in sidling up to Steve and brazenly signing, _“I got chills, they’re multiplying, and I’m losing control ‘cause the power you’re supplying, it’s electrifying!”_

To Bucky’s eternal surprise, and delight, Steve flashed him a wicked grin and began walking him backwards signing Sandy’s half of the duet and mimicking the choreography from the film. Bucky’s brain screeched to a halt and his felt his cheeks flush tomato red with a heat that also prickled at the back of his neck, the palms of his hands, and the small of his back. If he hadn’t already been the merry side of tipsy and bolstered by a day-long good mood to ride the high, Bucky thought he might have simply died on the spot. Luckily, he managed to recover himself, he’d always been something of a showman, and he bluffed enough confidence to continue signing his parts and shimmy back at Steve; though when Steve started echoing, _“you’re the one that I want,”_ Bucky didn’t think his poor heart could take it.

Thankfully the song transitioned to _Greased Lightning _and Bucky could focus on the lyrics and the actions, rather than on Steve; pleased – and surprised – to find he still remember all of the words. It got easier when Clint and Rob joined in with the T-Birds harmony (“_Greased lightnin', go greased lightnin',”_) doing the silly hand moves, exaggerated hip thrusts, and frantic clapping. Bucky’s shoulder couldn’t quite keep up with the too-fast rhythm, so he fixed Steve with a smirk and pretended to slick his hair back Danny-Zuko-style which earned him an eye roll and a fond headshake from Steve. 

Then the beat faded to the opening notes of _Summer Loving_ and Bucky’s stomach lurched as the song veered a little too close for comfort. He hesitated, unable to bring himself to start the verse, the memory of their conversation yesterday still fresh in his mind, and his promise to himself not to make things weird between them made Bucky pause. Fuck, why hadn’t he remembered this was how the song ended _before_ he’d starting signing it at Steve.

Bucky missed the line and Steve gave him a slightly quizzical look before catching the end of the refrain. “…_had me a blast,_” Steve sung with an encouraging smile, nodding for Bucky to continue.

Bucky sucked in a breath. “_Summer loving, happened so fast._”

_“I met a girl, crazy for me,” _Steve grinned, fixing Bucky with his bright blue eyes that were radiating such joy. He’d lost his tie and jacket during the evening, his shirt was open at neck, and he’d rolled his sleeves to his elbows, and when Bucky sang the next line, it was difficult not to mean it.

_“Met a boy, cute as could be.”_

If Steve saw the parallels in the song, he didn’t let it deter him.

_“Summer days, drifting away to, oh, oh those summer nights.” _

Bucky fixated on Steve. He heard the others continuing the harmonies around him (_“Tell me more, tell me more - did you get very far?”_ that was Clint. _“Tell me more, tell me more - like, does he have a car?”_ and Becca), but it was all too easy to blot them out and focus on Steve standing under the twinkling fairy lights in the marquee, backed by the dark wall of midnight-blue that fell across the beach behind him. Steve’s skin was beginning to glisten with sweat and his hair had fallen loose from its slicked back hold, letting a few strands fall loose across his forehead. 

_(She swam by me, she got a cramp_

_He ran by me, got my suit damp_

_I saved her life, she nearly drowned_

_He showed off, splashing around_

_Summer sun something's begun but oh, oh those summer nights)_

Bucky sang on auto pilot, flashes of him and Steve wrestling in the waves and the pool unhelpfully springing to mind. The beat slowed again, and Bucky was vaguely aware that the others drew away from them to sway together with their arms looped around each other’s necks, leaving Steve and Bucky alone in the middle of the floor.

_“It turned colder, that’s where it ends,”_ Bucky’s voice was barely audible above the track.

_“So I told her, we’d still be friends.”_

The universe was playing a cruel and twisted joke on Bucky. He wanted to screw his eyes shut and let the song finish on its own, but he couldn’t take his gaze away from Steve, who suddenly seemed closer. They’d already been standing inches apart, but now there was barely a hair’s breadth between them. This wasn’t fair.

_“Then we made our true love vow,”_ Bucky swallowed the lump in his throat and forced himself not to blush, or flinch at those words and how much he wished they could be true.

_“Wonder what she’s doing now.”_

_“Summer dreams ripped at the seams, but – _oh,” heart fluttering and nervous as he was, Bucky couldn’t help but exaggerate the emphasis, neither it seemed, could Steve. They both smirked and Bucky tried to pull himself together; Steve didn’t look put of by any of this at all, so why was Bucky worrying so much?

_“Those summer niiiii-iiiiiiights!”_ they both drawled with matching grins. The final notes lingered, a smattering of woops and cheers filled the marquee, and Steve swooped in to kiss him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally! 
> 
> There won't be any updates over christmas, but I'll be back in January with lots of new chapters, and hopefully an age rating ;) 
> 
> Thank you for all of your comments, it's wonderful to read them! <33333
> 
> =
> 
> (ps. I realised I messed up with Clint's backstory, as I'm going for comic-clint with hearing loss, so I've edited a line in Ch. 19 from: 'but unlike like Bucky, Clint had had the good sense to get out before he got hurt.' To: 'and like Bucky he’d also been discharged on medical grounds after a concussion grenade blew out his hearing.' - that's what happens when he makes a surprise appearance, sorry!!)


	22. Steve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back!!!! So sorry for the delay, (I meant to be back sooner but work has been hectic trying to catch up after the christmas break) i hope you all had a lovely holiday and a happy new year. I'll try and keep positing on a mostly weekly basis (but please forgive me if I miss a week here and there). As always thank you so much for your lovely comments! they're honestly what inspire me to keep going with this fic <333
> 
> Also, please note the change in rating for this fic. That doesn't really reflect this chapter, but will affect chapters going forwards (sorry if some of you were holding out for explicit, but it didn't seem to match the tone of what has turned out to be a mostly soft fic so far!!!) xo

Steve stayed on the balcony after Bucky left. He ordered breakfast from room service and spent the morning lazing with his feet up on the railing and his sketchbook on his knees. He didn’t set out to sketch Bucky again, but as he closed his eyes to conjure an image the only thing that sprung to mind was the sight of Bucky splayed amongst the pillows that Steve had awoken to that morning: tangled curls brushed across his forehead, face smushed into the pillow, jaw slack, and expression carefree. Steve’s visual memory was near perfect – possibly eidetic, though he’d never been inclined to have it tested – and he’d never been more grateful of that fact than as he traced smooth curve of Bucky’s jaw, the plump bow of his lips and delicate dimple in his chin with soft pencil strokes. He used the pad of his thumb to smudge away trailing lines that marked creases in the comforter Bucky had bunched to his chest, before balancing his pencil behind his ear and gazing down at the sketch.

It had been so tempting that morning to push Bucky’s curls aside and place a gentle kiss on his forehead, so tempting that Steve had forced himself out of bed and into a freezing cold shower, struggling to remind himself of all the ways it wasn’t a good idea to kiss Bucky, and all the ways he wasn’t ready for that kind of a relationship. Looking down at the image now, Steve was struggling to remember those reasons. A sense of longing stirred in Steve’s chest, warring with the conflicting desires of wanting Bucky and desperately wanting to avoid either of them getting hurt. But, as Steve stared down at the picture in his lap, he realised it was a little late for that. Steve was already hurting; shouldn’t he at least allow himself to be hurt over something worthwhile? 

He’d wanted to kiss Bucky’s forehead that morning, like he’d wanted to take Bucky’s hand as they watched the sunset, and wanted to be able to scoop Bucky into his arms as they fell asleep tangled together. Steve _wanted_ Bucky, he realised with a startling clarity. He wanted nothing more than to let himself get swept up in all that Bucky had to offer. How had Bucky phrased it? A holiday fling, fun whilst they were here. It didn’t have to be a commitment, it didn’t need to have the painful trappings of a relationship, it could just be a wonderful week before they parted ways. Other people managed that didn’t they? Why couldn’t Steve?

He was lost in his thoughts, staring through the picture and mulling over the possibility when the shrill ring of the room phone pulled Steve from his reverie. It rang loud and obnoxious, designed to serve as an alarm clock if a wake-up call was required and it sent a jolt through Steve. He scrambled to haul his legs down from the railing and tried not to trip over his feet as he hastened to answer it, wondering who the hell it could be.

“Hello?” he said, expecting the concierge or room service, and surprised to hear Becca’s cheerful voice.

“Steve! Hi. Thank you so much for the sketch! It’s beautiful.”

“Oh,” Steve’s shoulders softened and he smiled. “It’s nothing.”

“It’s not nothing.” She insisted. “It’s thoughtful, and lovely. And I’m going to have it framed when we get home.”

He chuckled at her sternness. “Glad you like it.”

“I also wanted to invite you to the reception this evening. I know Rob already asked you, but I want to make sure you know the invite’s genuine. I know a wedding’s probably the last place you want to be right now – and it would probably be a _little _weird if you came to the ceremony and speeches – but when all of that’s done, we’d love you to come for the dancing. I really mean that,” she added, like she could sense Steve was about to protest. “I know it would mean a lot to Bucky too,”

“Really?” Steve’s voice caught in his throat.

“Really. Say you’ll come?”

“I’ll, um, think about it.” Steve promised, heart hammering in a way that made it difficult to speak.

“Good. See you later!” She hung up before Steve had a chance to say anything else.

He lowered the phone back in to the cradle with slow, lethargic movements, and stood in a daze; thinking about the proposition as promised. He was still deliberating over whether or not to accept the invite when he eventually ventured down to the pool; feeling too cooped up in the hotel room, even with the balcony doors thrown wide open. He dove neatly into the water and set about completing fast laps of the pool as he weighed up the pros and cons. Part of him really wanted to go; it would be fun to drink and dance and let loose, certainly better than moping around the hotel on his own all evening. But, on the other hand, Bucky became even more adorable when he was tipsy, and Steve knew that holding his resolve in the face of that was going to be damn near impossible. 

There was also the stomach-churning possibility that Bucky would ignore Steve all evening in favour of flirting and dancing with someone else. Steve was under no illusions, he knew he couldn’t keep Bucky at arm’s length and still expect him to give Steve his exclusive attention; not to mention that someone as good looking, charming and downright intoxicating as a Bucky wouldn’t stay single for long. Just because Steve couldn’t handle a holiday fling didn’t mean that Bucky still couldn’t enjoy himself. 

Steve hadn’t let himself wait up for Bucky the night before, fearing that he wouldn’t return at all. Waking up to the beautiful sight of him snoring on the pillow beside him had stoked something deep in Steve’s chest, but he now realised he couldn’t count on that continuing for very long. Hell, after the wedding guests went home and the weekend was over, there might even be more rooms available in the hotel, and then there’d be nothing keeping Bucky anchored to Steve at all. The thought of that was enough to mess up Steve’s stroke pattern and he floundered and spluttered before finding his feet and coughing up the water from his lungs. Gasping for breath Steve staggered to the side and dragged a hand back across his head as he recovered his breathing. He really needed to get a grip on himself and figure out why that thought terrified him so much. 

In the end, it was all a moot point: Steve’s ma had raised him to be polite and he couldn’t turn down two direct invitations from both the bride and groom. So, after eating a quick dinner at the bar and knocking back a whiskey in an attempt at finding some Dutch courage, Steve dressed in dark blue suit and slicked back his hair, ignoring the way his heart was pounding and his palms were sweating. He popped an extra dose of asthma medication to stave off the tight feeling in his chest – knowing it was largely to due to anxiety rather than the lingering issues with his lungs, but hoping it might act as a placebo none-the-less – and hastened down the beach.

=

Steve heard the music before he saw the beach, loud upbeat tunes filled the night air with a chorus of jumbled voices and an overall atmosphere of joy. He threaded his way down the sandy path through the trees that lined the shore, following the inviting swell of catchy melodies until the beach opened up and he found a beautiful open sided marquee glowing on the sand. A crush of people danced on a small wooden dance floor whilst a few others mingled at a bar set off to the side. Steve picked his way down towards the edge of the marquee and hovered, his nerves preventing him from taking another step.

Luckily, he was saved from having to awkwardly announce himself by Bucky literally hurling himself at Steve, almost sending them both sprawling into the sand. “Hey,” Steve laughed, stepping back to brace himself against Bucky’s weight. Bucky beamed up at him, flushed and dishevelled. He’d lost his jacket and tie and his shirt was open at the neck. His hair was piled messily on top of his head and, surprisingly, he looked genuinely excited to see Steve. “You look like you’re having a good time.” Steve laughed.

“Even better now that you’re here,” Bucky gushed and something swelled in Steve’s chest. When Bucky grabbed his hand to drag him over the bar, Steve let himself follow willingly. He gratefully knocked back the trio of vodka shots Bucky ordered for him, hoping it would loosen his inhibitions enough to let him dance without feeling too embarrassed. Steve had never been good at dancing; two left feet and no sense of rhythm, but he was willing to try, for Bucky’s sake.

“Ready to dance?” Bucky asked, grinning hopefully.

Steve loosened his tie and tried to sound more confident that he felt as he answered, “lead the way.”

Bucky pulled Steve right into the middle of the dance floor and Steve soon discovered one vital factor that he’d overlooked in his assessment of the evening: Bucky could dance. Bucky could _really_ dance. He moved with an effortless grace, swaying his hips dangerously from side to side as his limbs flowed artfully in time with the music. He knew the words to every song and had little dance moves for some of them. Steve didn’t miss the way everyone was looking for Bucky to lead them through the songs, copying his actions and taking cues for him. He didn’t seem to mind that Steve had all the grace of a baby giraffe – he hadn’t stepped on Bucky’s toes yet; which Steve was counting as a blessing.

No one questioned who Steve was or why he was there and he found himself hand jiving alongside Becca, throwing questionable moves with Rob, and shimmying a little out of time with someone he learned was called Clint. Despite his best efforts, Steve couldn’t help compare the evening to his own reception-that-never-was. Had it really only been a week since his world had been turned upside down? Steve thought back the traditional wedding band they’d booked for the occasion, the stiff three-piece-suit he’d have been wearing, the uncomfortable shoes, and the sea of guests he’d never even met before who had been invited at Peggy’s parents’ behest. Honestly? Steve was having a far better time dancing with Bucky and his family; which probably said all it needed to about his almost-wedding. 

Clint kept managing to supply them with drinks, seemingly without leaving the dance floor, and Steve found himself feeling pleasantly buzzed; basking in that sweet spot of _almost_-drunk where he was still in full control of his mental faculties, but a much more confident version of himself was sitting behind the wheel. It helped that the DJ was playing a stream of classics straight from Steve’s guilty pleasures playlist, complete with the Grease Mega Mix that never failed to lift his spirits. When Bucky began to sing along enthusiastically, Steve didn’t hold back, joining in with Sandy’s half of the duet and grinning at the awe and surprise that spread across Bucky’s face.

As Steve sang “you’re the one that I want,” to Bucky, he realised more and more how true that statement was. By the time the song shifted to crooning about ‘those summer nights’, it was hard not to laugh at the situation, each lyric hitting home harder than the next. Steve let himself step closer to Bucky, narrowing the modest gap that had existed between them all evening like they were at a chaperoned school dance, and let his eyes roam across Bucky’s face and the unmistakable look of want in his eyes. They smirked in tandem as they drawled the last notes of the song and Steve’s mind was finally made-up. He wanted to kiss Bucky and he wasn’t going to let the hypothetical fear of getting his heart broken again hold him back any longer. They’d cross that bridge when they came to it, for now…for now…

Steve swooped in to clash his lips against Bucky’s, snaking his hand to cup Bucky’s jaw and let his fingers curl in the tendrils of hair at the nape of Bucky’s neck. He kept it soft and chaste for a moment, feeling Bucky stiffen in surprise and let out a small gasp against Steve’s mouth, before Bucky’s hands came up to tug on Steve’s shirt and haul him closer still.

“Are you sure?” Bucky asked, breathless, pulling back to search Steve’s eyes for any traces of uncertainty. 

“Yes,” Steve exhaled in response, punctuating it with another small kiss. “Yes. Definitely.” 

Those were obviously the words Bucky needed to hear, as he arched up to take control of his kiss, opening his mouth and tripping them lightyears beyond anything that could be classed as chaste. Steve heard someone wolf-whistle behind them, but he couldn’t care less. Bucky’s mouth slotted against his just so, moving with as much tender expertise as they way he’d danced, and Steve found himself melting into it. Bucky’s hands slipped around Steve’s torso, fingers splayed across his hip and the dip between his shoulder blades locking him in place and sending tingles down his spine. 

Steve was no longer aware of the music that was playing, but evidently Bucky was as his hips began to sway gently from side to side. The song swelled and when Bucky could no longer resit dancing to it, he broke away, looking up at Steve with a blissed-out expression Steve was sure mirrored his own. Then Bucky smirked and looped hand around Steve’s waist, and Steve realised he’d mis-calculated again: Bucky had been holding back his dancing all night. And _fuck_, Bucky began dancing right up against Steve’s chest, peppering his moves with kisses every now and again, letting his arms fall across Steve’s shoulders and fixing him with heated looks. It was all so much better than Steve could ever have imagined. 

Countless songs later Bucky twirled away from him before spinning back and colliding with Steve a little more forcefully than was probably intended, sending them both into a fit of laughter as Bucky recovered himself and apologised, letting his head fall on Steve’s shoulder and reaching down to intertwine their fingers. 

“Let’s go for some air, I’m beat.” Bucky sagged against Steve’s side and nodded towards the beach beyond the marquee. 

Away from the lights and the crush of bodies the night air felt cooler. Their feet began to sink in the sand and Bucky wasted no time in toe-ing off his shoes like he had on their first night, unlacing their fingers so that he could pull off his socks too. Steve copied him and felt the heat and adrenaline seep away as his feet sunk under the cool grains of sand. Bucky caught his arm and arched up into a kiss, less heated than before, but somehow all the more intimate. 

“What changed your mind?” Bucky asked quietly, staring at Steve’s mouth like he was unable to meet his eyes.

“You.” Steve answered, equally as soft. “Just you. I really like you, Buck. More than I’m scared of getting hurt.” 

“No one’s gonna get hurt, Steve.” Bucky lifted his eyes and reached up to brush a hand through Steve’s hair, letting his hand trace down Steve’s jaw and sweeping his thumb over the shell of Steve’s ear as he did. It was such a casual touch, but it lit fireworks deep in Steve’s chest. 

“I trust you.” Steve said. And wasn’t that the truth of it? He trusted Bucky not to break his heart, he only hoped he could promise the same.

“Good.” Buck beamed up at him before kissing him again, long and slow, and, for the first time in Steve’s memory, everything felt right with the world. 


	23. Bucky

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know they're both a little drunk by this point, so check the endnotes for a summary if that makes you nervous.

A little after midnight Becca and Rob began to bid goodnight to their guests. Becca threw her bouquet, which sailed straight into the hands of her maid-of-honour, like it had been planned, and then the guests were lining up and linking hands to make a series of arches for them run through as a send off. A crescendo of cheers followed them until they emerged at the other end looking pink cheeked and embarrassed. Someone wolf-whistled which set everyone off laughing. 

“Thank you all for coming!” Becca shouted. “It’s been the best day!” she gave them all a wave and then Rob surprised her by scooping her up, bridal style, to carry her up the path towards the hotel; earning a rousing chorus of whoops and cheers. 

“Ten bucks says he drops her as soon as they’re out of sight,” Clint laughed in Bucky’s ear.

“No bet.” Bucky returned with a laugh. “I’ll be surprised if he makes it that far.” 

But he did, by some miracle. Bucky watched as the pair of them disappeared around the corner towards the hotel; to Rob’s credit he only looked like he was struggling a little with the sand. They made a pretty picture, Becca’s dress trailing over Rob’s arm and her head tucked against his shoulder. Love for both of them swelled in Bucky’s chest, and he smiled; pleasantly buzzed on a combination of alcohol and a flood of endorphins from the day. 

Steve found Bucky’s hand threaded their fingers together, giving his hand a gentle squeeze - and wasn’t that just the icing on the cake? Bucky leant against Steve’s arm and let his head fall to rest on Steve’s strong shoulder. A small sigh escaped from his lips, which quickly turned into a yawn. 

“You okay?” Steve asked.

“Perfect.” He hummed. “Tired though.”

“We can call it a night, if you want?”

“Soon.” Bucky promised. “One more dance first?” He reached up for another kiss, marvelling that this was something he was allowed to do now, and tugged Steve back towards the dance floor. 

They only lasted a couple more songs before tiredness washed over Bucky like a wave and he found himself pressed up against Steve’s chest, barely able to stand up right on his own. 

“Okay, I’m calling it.” Steve ran his long fingers through Bucky’s hair, sending shivers down Bucky’s spine. “Bed.”

“Yeah, okay.” Bucky agreed. They gathered up their jackets and shoes and said the necessary goodbyes before slipping away towards the hotel. Bucky curled into Steve’s side as they traipsed through the sandy track, feeling warm and comfortable against Steve’s strong bulk. “Carry me?” Bucky asked, lulled into a flirty confidence by the success of the evening. 

“What? You’re can’t be _that_ tired.” Steve laughed at him. From where Bucky was curled against him he could feel the vibrations from deep within Steve’s chest. 

“Don’t have to be tired to want to be carried,” Bucky protested, with just a little bit of a pout.

“You sure that’s what you want?” Steve asked, and because Bucky was an idiot, he missed the mischief in Steve’s tone.

“Pretty please, with a cherry on top?” He looked up and fluttered his eyelashes at Steve.

“If it’s what you really want.” This time Bucky did notice how sly Steve sounded, but it was too late to do anything about it. Before Bucky had a chance to protest, Steve stooped to pick Bucky up, but rather than romantic bridal-carry he’d been expecting, Steve threw Bucky over his shoulder in a fireman’s lift. 

“Oi!” Bucky squealed, fighting and giggling at the indignity of it all. “That’s not what I meant! Put me down!” 

“Nope. You wanted to be carried.” Bucky could _hear _Steve’s grin. He shifted Bucky slightly to balance his weight, wrapped a thick hand around Bucky’s thigh to keep him in place, and strode off up the track, barely seeming to notice the weight of Bucky draped across his shoulders (which was hot as fuck, Bucky had to admit). 

Bucky gave up wriggling to get free when it became apparent that Steve had an iron grip and an even stronger will, and relaxed into the sensation of being carted around like he weighed nothing. Steve did at least put Bucky back on the floor before trying to manoeuvre into the elevator – but not before they’d marched through the lobby with Bucky’s ass prominently on display.

Bucky gave Steve a playful shove as they stepped into the elevator. “Punk ass bitch.” He grinned, hoping Steve knew he meant the insult as a joke. “You _know_ that’s not what I meant.” 

“Jerk,” Steve grinned and gave him a nudge in return. “You’re the one who insisted I carried you.” 

“Not like that.” Bucky protested, but he couldn’t even stay fake-mad at Steve for long, listing against him as the elevator whooshed up to their floor. “I’m gonna get my own back, y’know.” He muttered, sleepily.

“Oh yeah?” Steve laughed at him with indulgence. 

“Mhmm.” Bucky snaked a hand around Steve’s waist and twisted until he was looking up at him. Steve wasn’t that much taller than Bucky in truth, but there was something about the need to arch up onto his toes in order to get full leverage in the kiss that sent spikes of arousal deep in his gut. He kissed for all he was worth, crowding Steve up against the side of the elevator and slipping a leg between Steve’s thighs to pin him in place. 

“I thought you were tried,” Steve gasped, breathless, when the doors pinged on their floor and they were forced to part. He looked wrecked, hair mused and lips red and shiny from kissing. Bucky just gave a devilish smirk and grabbed Steve’s hand to drag him down the corridor towards their room. In all honesty, Bucky _was_ tired, and probably a little drunk, but he was so turned on from all of the dancing and kissing, that he was going to give it everything he had; even if he doubted they’d actually be able to get very far that evening. 

The door had barely closed behind them before Bucky had Steve backed up against the bed, fumbling in his haste to undo the buttons on his shirt. He dropped to press kisses against Steve’s beautifully bared throat, pausing to lick at the dip between his collar bones, and then working his way down Steve’s impeccably toned torso whilst his hands searched for the clasp on Steve’s belt. 

“Wait, wait,” Steve gripped Bucky’s arm. Bucky stopped instantly, and he flicked his gaze up to Steve’s face. This was where Steve was going to change his mind, wasn’t it? Dread coiled in the pit of Bucky’s stomach, ready for the blow. “Can we take it slow?” Steve looked almost scared to ask. 

“Oh, _Steve_, of course we can.” Relief flooded through him and Bucky brought both hands up to frame Steve’s face and kiss him, closed mouthed and gentle. 

“It’s, uh, been a while since I did anything like this,” Steve admitted, looking sheepish and far more adorable than anyone with his build had the right to.

“We’re not in a rush.” Bucky assured him. Sure, they were both going home in ten days, but there was plenty of time before then. They could figure things out, and even if they did nothing more than kiss, it was still infinitely more than Bucky had dared to hope for yesterday. If all he ever got to do again was kiss Steve, then Bucky was pretty sure he could die a happy man. “I’m gonna keep kissing you, though.” He said, waiting for clarification from Steve that that was still okay.

“I’d be upset if you didn’t,” Steve smiled up at him and Bucky took that as all the blessing he needed to straddle Steve’s thighs properly and kiss deeply into his mouth. He kept both hands safely above the belt, tracing patterns into Steve’s shifting shoulder blades and they kissed and kissed, pausing only to breathe and for Bucky to laugh with sheer delight that he was actually allowed to do this. In return Steve’s hands kept carding through Bucky’s hair and playing with the soft strands at the nape of his neck. It was bliss. 

Eventually his exhaustion did catch up with him, and Bucky planted a last peck on the side of Steve’s nose before melting against him and practically falling asleep right there and then. “Sleepy.” He muttered into Steve’s deltoid. 

“No shit,” Steve laughed at him, rubbing his hand down from Bucky’s hair to trace the outline of his shoulder. He leant to place a kiss right over the messy bunch scars and Bucky almost let out a sob at how sweet and reassuring that was. Then he went and swatted a hand against Bucky’s thigh. “You can use the bathroom first.” 

Bucky groaned. That meant moving. Couldn’t he just sleep here, draped over Steve like this? He almost asked Steve to carry him there, but thought that might be pushing things too far for one evening. Besides, he didn’t fancy being slung ass-up over Steve’s shoulder again – or worse. 

“Fine,” he stumbled back to standing and dragged a hand through his hair. Steve smiled up at him, looking all dishevelled and thoroughly kissed-out. The only thing that got Bucky moving, plodding really, towards the bathroom, was the thought of crawling into bed and curling up beside Steve, finally being able to unabashedly cuddle against him all night long. And wasn’t that a wonderful thought? This might just be the best holiday he’d ever had, Bucky decided, and really, it was only just beginning. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Steve and Bucky are both mildly drunk and start making-out, heavily, but nothing moves beyond kissing.
> 
> Sorry it's a short chapter! Lots more holiday-indulgent and smutty things planned for the rest of the fic ;) As always your comments give me life, I love reading every single one, thank you! <3333


	24. Steve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay <33333333

In their fumbled haste to get into bed, neither Steve nor Bucky had remembered to close the curtains properly the night before, which meant the room was bathed in a warm golden glow as soon as the sun rose. The shift in light woke Steve far earlier than he intended to get up, but even as he considered trying to fall back asleep, he knew it was a lost cause; he’d never been one to sleep in, and once he woke up, he found it pretty much impossible to fall asleep again. 

That didn’t mean he had to actually get up, though, and seeing how Bucky was cuddled tightly against him, Steve realised he wasn’t actually going to be able to get out of bed any time soon. It didn’t come as a surprise, from all of the tentative touches and the tangled limbs Steve had woken to before, Steve knew Bucky was tactile, but lying awake, enveloped by Bucky’s limbs, Steve realised Bucky had been working hard to restrain himself up until now. No longer holding back, Bucky’s head was resting on Steve’s chest, his body was settled snug against Steve’s side, an arm hugged tightly across Steve’s waist and a leg thrown across his thigh. 

It might have felt claustrophobic, it certainly would have done a few days ago, but now it felt surprisingly pleasant. Not to mention, reassuring. Steve had been scared the night before when he’d tentatively asked Bucky to slow things down. He’d been so sure that would put an end to whatever had been kindled between at the wedding reception. Surely the whole point of a holiday fling was to hook up properly and sleep together? But Steve needed time, it had been so long he’d been with anyone other than Peggy and this all felt like it was happening so quickly. 

Thankfully, Bucky hadn’t seemed to mind in the least. He’d backed off immediately and seemed more than content to just keep kissing. Even after they both went through the motions of getting ready for bed and crawling under the sheets, Bucky had pulled Steve close, hooking their legs together and tracing the outline of Steve’s shoulders and arms, kissing lazily until they fell asleep tangled together. 

Steve glanced down at the mop of brown splayed on his chest and tilted his head to press a kiss against Bucky’s head. He didn’t mean to wake Bucky, he’d have happily let himself be used a pillow for a while yet, but Bucky gave a soft “hmmm” followed by a deep, contented moan. 

“Morning.” Steve said softly. 

“’time is it?” Bucky mumbled. 

“Early. Don’t worry you don’t you don’t have to get up yet.”

“Hmmm.” Bucky sighed again; wriggling, somehow, even closer against Steve’s side. 

Steve began carding his hand through Bucky’s hair, massaging Bucky’s scalp and running his fingers through the delicious texture of the tufts and curls. It was a moment so unspeakably tender, and intimate, and Steve didn’t ever want it to end. But it had to. Everything always did.

Bucky stirred, waking gradually, before he lurched awake all at once and untangling himself from Steve to throw himself across the bedroom with ungainly speed. “Gotta piss,” he muttered, staggering against the jamb of the bathroom door before making it successfully inside. 

Steve stifled a laugh at Bucky, and used his new-found freedom to stretch his arms and legs; arching off the bed with a full body yawn that travelled all the way down to his clenched toes, before curling back in on himself, bunching the pillow back under his head and rolling onto his side to watch as Bucky padded back from the bathroom. Rather than walking around the bed, Bucky opted to crawl right over the top of Steve and curled against his back. 

“M’so hungover,” he grumbled, burying his face between Steve’s shoulder blades. 

“Yeah, prosecco, beer, and shots will do that to you.” Steve couldn’t help but laugh at him this time.

“Ugh, don’t remind me.” Bucky complained. 

Steve wanted to roll over to see Bucky’s face, but he couldn’t without squishing him, so he contented himself with reaching back for Bucky’s hand, and dragging it across his waist. “What’s on your itinerary for the day?” 

“Sweet F-A.” Bucky sighed with a contented hum, he splayed his hand open for Steve to link their fingers. “I figured today was going to be a write-off. You?”

“I had a sunset cruise booked later, but we can skip if it you don’t fancy it.”

“Sunset cruise?” Bucky voice lilted with interest. “What’s that?”

“Funnily enough,” Steve huffed a small laugh, “you go on boat, at sunset, and you cruise around the island.” His snark earned himself a sharp nudge in the ribs from Bucky.

“Punk. I mean, what…like…” Bucky gestured vaguely with their clasped hands, unable to summon any more eloquent words. Steve pulled him closer, finding the combination of hungover and sleepy Bucky utterly adorable.

“It’s a big old boat, with lots of outdoor seating. You cruise around the island and eat an overpriced three course meal whilst the sun sets into the sea.” Steve gave a proper explanation. It had sounded like the ridiculous, cheesily romantic thing you were meant to do on a honeymoon, so Steve had booked it, along with all of the other unnecessary honeymoon extras the resort had suggested during the booking process. 

“Kind of like a date?” Bucky muttered sleepily into Steve’s back.

“I guess. If you want?” Steve couldn’t see Bucky’s face to gauge his reaction and he tensed slightly; unsure if sharing something like that with Bucky was going to be too much, too soon, but then hadn’t everything they’d shared together been exactly that so far? Even the way they were cuddled in bed with sunlight pouring around them felt far more familiar and more domestic than it had any right to, considering they’d only known each other for a matter of days. 

“I want.” Bucky confirmed with simple ease that washed over Steve like relief. “When do we need to be at the harbour?”

“Five.”

“Think I can manage that. M’gonna sleep a bit longer first, though,” he was already falling back to sleep and as content as Steve would have been to spend a lazily morning cuddled together, he felt pressure building in his bladder and hunger gnawing at his stomach. He flinched when his stomach decided to rumble, flushing with embarrassment, but Bucky just snorted a laugh and gave Steve’s stomach a light pat. “Go find breakfast.” Bucky told him, rolling away from Steve to curl up on the other side of the bed. “I’ll meet you downstairs later?”

“Sure.” 

“Where will you be?” Bucky’s voice already sounded slurred and distant, Steve wasn’t sure how much of this conversation he’d remember. 

“By the pool or on the beach, maybe.” Steve extracted himself from under the covers and stretched his arms above his head, cracking his back. 

“I’ll find you.” Bucky assured him, sounding certain despite the fact that he was now more than half asleep.

“Okay.” Steve leant over to press a final kiss into Bucky’s hair before he padded across to the bathroom.

He showered, shaved, and dressed quickly, trying not to make too much of a racket in the room, but Bucky slumbered on, oblivious. Steve decided to leave him a note, in case he didn’t remember the conversation, scrawling: ‘_Morning, Sleepyhead. Gone down to breakfast, I’ll see you by the pool later. Steve x’ _onto a piece of hotel stationary and leaving it folded by Bucky’s phone. He took a last lingering look at Bucky who had wrapped himself around the comforter in lieu of Steve, with a leg hitched over the bundled sheets he held clutched to his chest. Steve watched as Bucky’s chest rose and fell gently with each breath, and felt a mixture of warm feelings stirring in his chest. When he grabbed his sketch book and phone and headed down to breakfast, it was with a smile on his face and a spring in his step. 

=

Steve was surprised to find how many of the wedding guests he recognised wandering around the hotel. Quite a few of them looked wrung-out and hungover, but they all gave him a wave and a smile, making Steve feel worlds away from the misery and isolation that had threatened to drown him on Tuesday evening when he’d first arrived. Clint even stumbled over to say hello at the breakfast buffet. Well, more accurately, to grumble an “I’m never drinking again” as he filled up a mug of strong black coffee from the dispenser and staggered out towards the patio terrace to collapse into a chair by the pool. 

After treating himself to a spread of blueberry waffles, mountains of fruit and nut granola and a very tall coffee, Steve settled into a sun lounger looking out over the beach and pulled up his work email on his phone. He rattled off few replies and accepted a few meeting requests for when he’d be back in the country, making a healthy dent in his unread messages before he got a stern all-caps text from Sam telling him to: PUT YOUR PHONE AWAY AND GD ENJOY YOURSELF!

Smiling to himself, Steve stuffed his phone into his shorts pocket and flicked through his sketchbook to find a clean page. He lost himself in sketching little studies of nothing in particular - sunlight bouncing on the pool; condensation dripping down a glass of ice water; sea birds circling overhead – and basked in the feeling of his legs warming in the sun. He was so consumed in his work that he didn’t hear Bucky approaching and was startled when a pair of strong arms draped themselves around his neck and Bucky planted a sloppy kiss on Steve’s cheek. 

“Whatcha drawing?” Bucky asked, peering over Steve’s head and letting his chin settle on Steve’s shoulder. He hadn’t bothered to shave that morning and his stubble scratched against Steve’s neck, sending a little thrill shuddering through him. 

“Just doodling,” Steve replied, twisting his head to return a kiss on Bucky’s cheek.

“They’re good. Real good.” 

“Thanks.” Steve knew, objectively that he could draw, but he stilled buzzed pleasantly whenever anyone complimented him on it. 

“You ever draw people?” Bucky slunk away to drop into the empty chair beside Steve, which he’d claimed by throwing a towel over it, saving it for Bucky. 

The question was innocuous, but Steve flushed with embarrassment. Yes, he did. But the only person he’d drawn this trip was Bucky, and Steve wasn’t sure if he was ready to own up that yet. He normally liked to ask people’s permission before he sketched them, it felt a little invasive otherwise, like taking someone’s picture without permission, but he’d hadn’t been able to help himself when it came to sketching Bucky’s likeness again and again.

“Erm, yeah.” He tried to sound nonchalant.

“Can I see?”

Steve faltered. He glanced at Bucky, trying to predict his reaction, but Bucky’s eyes were shielded by sunglasses and his mouth was quirked into an unreadable expression. In the end Steve decided he had nothing to hide, honesty and openness had gotten them this far.

“I drew you the other day, actually.”

Bucky’s mouth widened into an unmistakable smile and he reached for the sketchbook. Steve hastily flipped to the drawing of Bucky standing in the sea, flicking past the one of him sleeping, and trying not to blush furiously as he did.

“Wow,” Bucky let out a soft breath and as he stared at the picture. “No one’s ever drawn me before.” he said in an awed whisper. “This is incredible, Steve. You’re really talented.”

Steve shrugged.

“Can I take a photo?” 

“Sure? You don’t mind, that I drew you?” Steve asked as Bucky snapped a couple of pictures of the page on his phone. 

“’course not! It’s so cool.” He traced his fingers lightly across the page, taking it all it. Steve was mesmerised by his reaction. “You kept the scars.” Bucky said after a few moments of quiet contemplation. 

Steve swallowed. He couldn’t quite tell from Bucky’s tone if he thought that was a good thing or a bad thing - but Steve wasn’t just going to omit them, that would have worse, surely? “Yeah, I did.” he opted for a neutral response. 

“You made this one look like a star,” Bucky brought his hand up to trace over the almost-star-bust pattern on the spherical swell of his shoulder. He was wearing a neon blue tank top that matched the rim of his sunglasses and showed off every delightful contour of his arms. He’d picked up quite a tan in the few days that they’d been here and the scars looked like veins of silver and pink quartz against the bronze of his shoulder. 

“It kinda does.” Steve replied, slowly. The way the scars criss-crossed had almost left a star in their wake, and Steve had used some creative licence to emphasise that in his sketch. It felt foolish to have done so now, but then he’d never planned on letting Bucky see the sketch. It just seemed fitting, for someone who knew so much about the constellations, who’d always wanted to be an astronaut.

Bucky let his hand fall so Steve brought his own up to brush against the textured lines. The chairs were so close together that it was the easiest thing in the world to lean over a plant a gentle kiss right in the centre of the would-be-star. 

“You’ve got the _plough_ here, too,” Steve whispered against Bucky’s skin, tracing a jagged fishhook shaped scar in the crook of Bucky’s elbow that could look like the plough if you wanted it too. 

“Huh,” Bucky let out a bemused huff. “I’ve never thought of it that way before.” 

Steve leant to press a kiss against the plough shaped scar, and then decided to work his way up the rest of Bucky’s arm for good measure. “I barely know any constellations, but I’m sure there are others you could find. What’s that one you said looked with a ‘w’?” he asked, tracing a cluster of scars on Bucky’s bicep that loosely resembled the strung-out ‘w’ Bucky had described for him. 

“Cassiopeia,” Bucky replied quickly. Steve didn’t immediately notice that something in his voice sounded cracked. He planted a last kiss over the star and propped his chin on Bucky’s shoulder, smiling up at him, with his mind full of memories of their first night on the beach, when Bucky had charmed him, distracted him with stargazing, and helped him feel like less of a heartbroken wreck. 

Bucky reached for Steve’s jaw and tilted his chin to capture his lips in a proper kiss. 

“Thank you.” Bucky said with a sincere reverence that Steve felt far outweighed a simple sketch and observation. “Thank you.” 

Steve let himself be kissed until Bucky pulled away, and was suddenly thrusting the sketchbook back in Steve’s lap and scrambling to his feet. 

“M’gonna go get some breakfast. You need more coffee?” Bucky spoke quickly, and breathlessly, and it was only then that Steve realised Bucky was trying to mask an emotion in his voice that Steve couldn’t decipher. 

Without waiting for Steve’s reply and before Steve had a chance to ask what was wrong, Bucky hurried off, leaving Steve to wonder what the fuck had just happened. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PS. I've decided to lean full-tilt into the sappy, schmoopyness of this story! Sorry if the stuff about Bucky's arm seems a little...twee? I promise we'll find out more about where he got the scars later on.
> 
> Thanks as always for your comments and for sticking with this story!


	25. Bucky

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Valentine's Day! Have some more of these adorable idiots not being able to face up to their feelings for each oher <3333

Bucky didn’t panic. He’d led men into combat. He’d calmed Becca about a missing wedding dress days before her wedding. He’d given work presentations, hungover and with zero prep time. Bucky didn’t panic. But when Steve started tracing constellations into his arm, when he’d looked up at him with that big, dopey, lovestruck grin, Bucky’s insides churned with something unmistakably akin to panic. He bolted, spluttering nonsense in his wake, and found himself leaning against the sink in the large marble bathroom off the hotel lobby. 

Bucky sucked in a few deep breaths, pushed his sunglasses back from his eyes and forced himself to look at his reflection. He didn’t often wear tank tops anymore, not in public at any rate. But he’d packed a few on a whim and had foolishly braved wearing one today. The thin band of material which looped over his shoulder did nothing to hide the thick mess of scars that marred his shoulder and now that he’d picked up a bit of a tan, they stood out even more boldly against his skin. Bucky had been forced to accept their existence by now, and days of standing in front of a mirror rubbing bio-oil and hydrating cream into them had worked as some sort of exposure therapy so that the sight no longer shocked or appalled him. On some level he even thought they looked intimating, toughened him up into the veteran sergeant he was meant to be; but Bucky had never even considered they might be anything other than unappealing. Becca and Rob, even Clint, were always quick to assure him that they didn’t look that ugly; but no one had ever traced patterns from them or seen them as anything other than something to be hidden away. 

Bucky traced a shaking finger over the wonky ‘w’, and the shape that could almost be the plough; places were shrapnel and fragments of bone had pierced his skin. You had to use some artistic license, but Steve was right, Bucky could almost conjure Scorpius trailing down the back of his arm, and if you squinted, the whole mess across the side of his shoulder could almost be Perseus. He dropped his hand back to the marble counter top and concentrated on breathing in and out in controlled breaths. 

And then Steve had to go and kiss him like that. All tender and intimate, not angling for anything – because Steve had even asked him to slow down yesterday – just kissing him for kissing’s sake, because he wanted to. Because Steve was all sweet and pure like that and – fuck. Bucky rocked backwards and dropped his head between his arms to stare at the floor. Fuck. It wasn’t supposed to happen like this, Bucky wasn’t supposed to go and fall in love with Steve. It was meant to be a holiday fling; cathartic for both of them. And while Bucky would never, ever dream of hurting Steve, he suddenly realised he was playing a little fast and loose with his own heart.

Fuck. Bucky forced himself to stand upright and turned on the faucet, letting it run cold before he splashed a handful of water over his face. He stared slack-jawed at his reflection as the water clumped in his eyelashes and trickled down his cheeks and jaw, trying to come to terms with the weight of his emotions. If he thought rationally for half a moment, he could see he was overreacting. He needed to pull himself together. You couldn’t fall in love with someone in the space of five days. He wasn’t in love, he was just….Bucky didn’t know what he was feeling, but his emotions were clearly just out of whack because everything about their relationship had been backwards thus far. He’d never spent so much time with someone in a romantic setting since, well, ever really, and the last time he hadn’t slept with someone on the first date must have been high school. Bucky just wasn’t equipped to handle this kind of emotional intimacy. As soon as they slept together (more than literally), everything would return to an even kilter. That was all. Bucky just needed to pull himself together until then. He splashed another handful of water in his face for good measure, and wetted a hand towel to dab cool water across the back of his neck. 

Feeling refreshed, and less likely to balk in the face of Steve’s enduring goodness, Bucky headed back towards the bar and ordered himself a grilled cheese along with two large iced coffees, opting to wait on them himself rather than letting them be delivered to the poolside table. A warm breeze shifted through the white drapes that lined the archways, billowing and retreating with an enviable lethargy. Every time the wind picked up the drapes and blew them away from the windows, Bucky caught a glimpse of Steve with his golden hair and sun kissed limbs dazzling from the sun lounger. Bucky didn’t even try to tear his eyes away from Steve, and when he carefully carted the drinks and food over to him, Bucky’s emotions only grew more hopelessly tangled and confused. 

Bucky slid the tray on the side table beside his chair and handed Steve the cool glass of iced coffee. 

“Thanks. Everything okay?” Steve asked immediately, eyes radiating concern. 

“Yeah, fine. Just…” Bucky shook his head, deciding not to answer. “I’m fine.”

Steve didn’t look convinced but he didn’t press as Bucky settled back into his chair and took a large bite from his grilled cheese. 

“We don’t have to go on this sunset cruise this evening, if you’d rather not.” Steve said after a while, missing the point of Bucky’s anxiety entirely. “We can offer it to Becca and Rob?”

“Nah, they’ve already got plans. And I wanna go.”

“You sure? You know everyone’s going to assume we’re a couple…”

“A honeymooning couple,” Bucky agreed. He glanced at Steve to find him clearly trying to keep his expression neutral, but his eyebrows were pinched with uncertainty. “I don’t mind pretending.” Bucky assured Steve. “S’long as you don’t mind?”

“I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable.”

Bucky shook his head and smiled. How was someone like Steve even real? How had he ended up lucky enough to spend a week with this wonderful man? How had he found himself in a position where he could lean across and kiss him if he wanted? One thing Bucky knew for certain; he didn’t want to mess this up by overthinking and overreacting. He reached for Steve’s hand a gave it a squeeze before returning his attention to his sandwich, and trying to figure out how to reply. He couldn’t explain the real reason for his panic. “It’s fine, really.” He said instead, before teasing, “s’long as there’s no sea caves.”

Steve’s face flushed with an embarrassed guilt immediately. “I’m still really sorry about that –”

“I’m teasing, you punk,” Bucky laughed at him. 

“Jerk,” Steve laughed back. 

And like that the tension was clear between them. It was only going weird between them if Bucky let it. He’d been the one to instigate this whole thing after all, wasn’t this exactly what he wanted? It was his own damn fault if he couldn’t keep his feelings under wraps. Bucky settled back into his chair and crossed his ankles, taking an obnoxiously loud slurp of drink through his straw and setting his gaze on the horizon. Steve chuckled softly under his breath at him and picked up a one of his hardback books to start reading. 

They lazed away most of the day like that; Bucky napped in the sun and listened to podcasts on his phone, whilst Steve alternated between sketching and reading. Clint rounded them up along with few more wedding guests and dragged them down to the beach after lunch, where they tossed around a frisbee around in the shallows as the waves lapped and splashed around their ankles. Bucky and Steve found themselves on opposing teams, and Bucky won a point by giving Steve a surprise kiss on the cheek to distract him; stealing the frisbee from his grip and hurling it neatly towards Clint who was standing in their endzone. Steve retaliated by lifting Bucky clean off his feet and throwing him into the deeper water, much to the amusement of everyone else who was playing. 

By the time Steve suggested they head upstairs to get changed to dinner, Bucky’s panic had settled into a manageable level, it spiked every time Steve went and did something affectionate, like letting Bucky use his shirt to wipe the salty seawater from his eyes, or reaching to clasp his hand as they waited for the elevator; but Bucky was beginning to enjoy the thrill of it, and at least it was no longer enough to make him bolt. He was the one who’d wanted to initiate all of this in the first place, after all; he really only had himself to blame. 

They shared the bathroom mirror to get ready; standing closer than was perhaps necessary in front of large expanse of their reflections. Bucky cleaned his teeth and watched as Steve buzzed away the trace of dark blonde shadow which had begun to adorn his jaw, but when Bucky reached for his own razor to remove his own stubble, Steve stayed his hand.

“It suits you,” he shrugged.

Bucky titled his jaw from side to side contemplating the even smattering of scruff. Not-shaving had always been a rebellion against army regulations in the past, never a stylistic choice, but Bucky had to admit Steve had a point. 

“Not put off by prickly kisses then?” Bucky teased as he packed away his razor. 

“Nope.” Steve replied, popping the ‘p’ and swooping to drag his cheek against Bucky’s jaw as proof, planting a kiss against the shell of Bucky’s ear before pulling away. He gave Bucky’s reflection a smirk and ducked out of the bathroom, leaving Bucky to style his hair with a fluttering pulse that didn’t want to let up. 

Bucky didn’t know how fancy to dress for the sunset-dinner-cruise-kind-of-date-honeymoon-extravaganza, so he took his cues from Steve, who’d opted for suit trousers and a dress shirt, worn open at the neck, with a jacket in case it turned cold later. Unfortunately, Bucky hadn’t planned on attending any fancy dinners other than the wedding and rehearsal dinner, and seeing as both suits were covered in sand or tequila, Bucky opted for a pair of dark jeans that hugged his thighs beautifully; hoping he’d be smart enough. Judging by Steve’s flustered and averted gazes, they were at least having their desired affect on Steve.

“You look stunning,” Steve assured Bucky when he voiced his concerns. “But then you did even before you changed,” he added with a smirk. 

Bucky rolled his eyes and threw a jacket over his arm, looping his sunglasses into the v of his shirt. “C’mon, let’s go, before this boat leaves without us.” 

The boat which turned out to be a multi-tiered, luxury yacht of some kind, was already sitting in the harbour when they arrived. Bucky suspected the cruise must have originated from the mainland, because he hadn’t seen any of the people milling around the hotel before. He also quickly realised that he was massively underdressed as they mingled on deck with women in thousand dollar cocktail dresses, and men with watches that cost as much as small cars, but Bucky found it hard to care when Steve steered him towards the railing to get the best view of the harbour as the boat pulled out to sea, crowding behind him to plant his chin on Bucky’s shoulder as they watched the harbour slowly recede.

Drinks and canapés were served as the boat began it’s slow crawl round the island and it wasn’t until the sun began it’s final descent towards the horizon that they were shown to their table. “This way, if you please, Mr and Mr Rogers.”

Bucky winked at Steve who shook his head with a fond smile.

They were ushered to the outdoor portion of the upper deck, to a small square table in the far back corner, with views on both sides and the places set adjacent so that they’d both be looking out at the sea the whole time. It had to be the best table on the boat.

“Wow, you don’t do things by halves, do you?” Bucky leaned in to whisper in a low voice as they took their seats and were handed menu cards by the waiter.

“All or nothing,” Steve agreed, but he dipped his head and Bucky noticed a bashful smile flirted across his lips. For a minute Bucky entertained the idea of being wined and dined by Steve for real. What would it feel like to be doted on so completely that nothing less than the best of whatever he planned to do would suffice? Bucky still couldn’t understand why anyone would walk away from that. Or, for that matter, how he was going to be able to turn his back on Steve in little more than a week.

  



	26. Bucky

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A surprise second chapter for this weekend! Enjoy :D <3 <3 <3

Bucky was never going to get tired of watching the sunk into the sea. It hovered above the horizon for a long moment, a large orange disk shimmering through the haze of the atmosphere, and Bucky swore he heard a hiss as it slipped slowly over the horizon. The sky went pink and purple, and liquid fire flashed golden across the crests of the waves. He tried to snap a few photos with his phone, but it couldn’t do justice to the colours blazing across the sky. He did manage to capture the look of wonderment on Steve’s face before he realised he was being photographed and brought his hand up to hide his face. 

“Don’t get me,” he laughed. “Get the view.”

“Maybe I want both,” Bucky grinned back. He leant back in his chair to try and squeeze all of Steve, and his particularly board shoulders, into the shot. Steve looked grudgingly at him for a moment, before relenting and giving Bucky a genuine, if shy, smile.

“Do you want a photo together?” One of the wait staff offered, swooping in out of nowhere.

Bucky gave Steve a sidelong glance and a hopeful smile. 

“Sure,” Steve shrugged, he shuffled his chair closer to Bucky and looped an arm around his waist as Bucky handed over his phone. 

They looked good together, Bucky decided when he scrolled through the few shots the waiter had taken for them. Steve seemed to agree, nosing over Bucky’s shoulder and peer at the phone screen.

“You’ll have to send me those.” He made Bucky promise. “And the ones from the beach the other day.”

“As soon as we get back to wifi,” Bucky assured him, quietly delighted that Steve also wanted to keep memories of this evening. 

The sky darkened quickly once the sun had set, and the deck of the boat was transformed as a hundred and one twinkling lights came to life, wrapping around the railings and along cables strung overhead. The small lantern on the table between them began to glow brighter as dusk gathered, bathing their plates with a soft orange light that danced as the flame flickered. Conversation flowed easily, as it always had between them. There was no awkward searching for topics, no simply waiting for the other person to finish talking; they talked about everything and nothing, flitting between topics with like they’d known each other for years, not days. The more time Bucky spent with Steve, the more he realised there was a devilish sense of humour lurking behind his slightly shy demeanour, and the more he realised their personalities just clicked. 

They polished off a bottle of wine between them, but Bucky stopped Steve from ordering another. They’d spent enough of the holiday if not drunk then at least tipsy; and Bucky wanted to be clear headed for this evening. The only downside to that was that without a ‘beer jacket’ to dull his senses, the metal in Bucky’s shoulder began to ache as the temperature dropped, and once the sun had fully set and the night drew in, all the warmth from the day seemed to evaporate in an instance.

“Are you cold?” Steve asked as when Bucky couldn’t supress a shiver. 

“A little.” He pulled his jacket tight across his chest, but the whilst the thin material cut an amazing line across his torso, it did absolutely nothing to keep him warm. 

“They probably have blankets, or something. Give me a second,” Steve disappeared before Bucky could stop him, but he reappeared moments later to drape a thick fleece throw around Bucky’s shoulders. Bucky burrowed into it, twisting it over his hands and crossing it snugly across his chest.

“Thanks,” he flashed Steve a smile before dipping his chin into the folds of the soft material. 

“Sorry, I’d have asked sooner, I didn’t notice how cold it had gotten,” Steve began to apologise, but Bucky waved it away before he could start to beat himself up too badly about it. If they didn’t have any blankets on board, Bucky highly suspected Steve would have offered Bucky his own jacket, to hell with keeping himself warm. He was beginning to understand that was just the kind of person Steve was.

“It’s probably not that cold,” Bucky allowed. “Just all the metal in my shoulder puts up a fuss as soon as it drops below fifty.” 

“Is there...a lot... of metal?” Steve asked hesitantly, like he didn’t want to pry, but didn’t want to just ignore the topic either. 

“A fair bit.”

“I’m guessing it’s meant to be there?”

“Most of it.” The surgeons had tried to get rid of all the tiny bits of shrapnel buried in his muscles, but apparently they were benign; digging around to remove it was more trouble than it was worth, especially with the state his arm was already in. “There’s a plate in my shoulder blade. They had to replace the shoulder, so the whole top half of my humerus is metal. I did have two plates holding my collar bone together, but they got taken out again. There’s a plate in my forearm and about twenty? Maybe thirty pins holding it all together.” Bucky catalogued. He reached for his drink and took a long sip as he watched Steve’s face for his reaction. 

“Fucking hell,” Steve cursed quietly under his breath. “That must be fun at the airport.”

Bucky snorted into his glass. “Yup. I always leave extra time to get through security.” It always struck him as ridiculous, that he still had to remove his watch and empty the coins from his pockets whilst knowing full well he was going to set off the alarm anyway. “Luckily the scars make it pretty obvious what the problem is.” Bucky shrugged and dipped his chin back below the blanket.

“Must have been one hell of an ordeal.” Steve commented softly.

They’d ventured here before, but Bucky found he didn’t mind talking about it now. Especially not when he knew Steve only had good intentions. 

“I was lucky it wasn’t worse. I thought for sure I was gonna lose the arm,” Bucky spoke flippantly about it now, but it had been a real fear at the time. “But the surgeon was determined to save it. Well, I think it was the Senator, really, who was pushing for it; trying to show that he did care about veterans and that top notch health care was available. After the whole clusterfuck was leaked to the press it was the least he could do to salvage his career, I suppose.”

Steve looked confused, pouting with that little crease back between his brows.

“Oh, you didn’t hear about all that?” Typical that details of their capture hit national news, but not the US government’s shady handling of the aftermath. “The CIA kept us detained for two weeks after we made it back stateside. Two weeks without taking a proper look at my arm. When the press got wind of it there was uproar. Luckily it was an election year and public outcry actually meant something.” Bucky gave a bitter laugh.

“Why? Why would they do that?”

Bucky shrugged. “It’s all classified, mainly because no one knew what the hell had happened. But, uh,” Bucky scrambled to straighten out what details he was allowed to tell. “No one knew why we were targeted, or captured. The group that took us made no demands. They got intel out of us, sure, but we were a ranger unit, our intel wasn’t worth all that. There were fears we’d become double agents, or a sleeper cell, or something. I think that’s what they were scared of. Obviously that wasn’t the case. I think you can blame ‘Homeland’ for that particular line of paranoid thinking.” Bucky snorted again. 

It all seemed to ridiculous now. Of course it wasn’t so ridiculous at the time. Not when his own country, the country he’d fought and almost died, for were treating him like he might be a criminal. It’s why he’d been so keen on getting a job with the DOJ; he wanted to make sure there were some good guys in the inside, wanted to make sure no one else got treated like he had. 

“Could have been worse, though,” Bucky shrugged. 

Steve’s expression made it clear that he couldn’t imagine how it could possibly have been worse. Bucky gave him a fond smile, for someone so intelligent, who’d endured plenty of his own sufferings, he could be incredibly naive. 

“At least there was no lasting nerve damage.” He untucked his hand from inside the blanket and wiggled his fingers as proof. “I lost the strength in these two fingers,” he bent the little finger and ring finger on his left hand, as he spoke, “so I can’t really play piano anymore – and trying to hold on in the subway with that arm hurts like a bitch if it’s more than one stop, but.” He shrugged again. “At least I’m alive.”

“Oh, Buck. I’m.” Steve faltered. He looked so distraught. “I’m sorry if you thought I making light of it earlier, with the whole thing about the constellations, that wasn’t my intent.” 

Bucky turned to star at Steve. Is that why Steve thought Bucky had run off? “God, Steve. I know it wasn’t.” He reached for Steve. “It was sweet. Really. I’ve never thought to see the scars that way before. They’ve always just looked really ugly to me.” 

“They’re not ugly Bucky. Nothing about you is ugly.” Steve said all earnest and endearing. 

Bucky didn’t agree, but it wasn’t an argument worth having, so he just hummed and let his hand rest on Steve’s forearm for a bit. Steve turned his arm so that his palm was lying face up on the table, it was a clear invitation for Bucky to hold his hand, and one Bucky readily accepted. Steve used his thumb to brush against the side of Bucky’s hand in a soothing motion.

“Did you used to play the piano?” he asked after a spell.

“A bit. Never as good as my mom though. She was classically trained; played with the New York Philharmonic for a bit – before I was born. She used to teach piano, and she made sure Becca and I grew up reading music, but after Dad died and she had to get a ‘real’ job, she stopped playing. I pretty much stopped then too.” 

Steve lifted Bucky’s and to press a kiss against his knuckles.

“I’m sorry to hear that.” He sounded genuinely sorry.

“Do you play anything?”

“Nope. I couldn’t even manage the recorder in elementary school.”

“With those shitty, spit-filled instruments everyone had to share? No one, managed the recorder in elementary,” Bucky laughed. 

“I always wanted to be able to play, though. Seemed like a useful talent to have.”

“Well, maybe I’ll teach you someday.” Bucky said, shuffling his chair a little closer to Steve’s so they could twine their wrists together and he could rest his head on Steve’s shoulder. “I’ll teach you low notes and you can fill in for my left hand.” It was an idle notion, but it nice to pretend that they had a future beyond next week; even if he could only pretend for a little while.

“I’d like that.” Steve said softly and placed a kiss into Bucky’s hair. 

=

They sat like that, sipping at their drinks and watching the lights from the boat dance on the water as they finished the lap of the island and the boat slowly pulled into the harbour. Bucky very reluctantly parted with the fleecy blanket as he descended the gangplank back onto dry land, but Steve instantly looped and arm around his shoulder and pulled him close to conserve body heat. He stayed curled around Bucky even when they reached the warmth of the hotel and as rode together in the elevator, only stepping away to let Bucky fish into his back pocket for the room key. Bucky was a little disappointed when Steve didn’t immediately latch onto him once they were in the room. He closed the door behind Steve and waited for him to make a move, but Steve slipped right past him and into the bathroom without even pressing a kiss into Bucky’s head like he seemed to do on a subconsciously frequent basis. 

Bucky emptied his pockets onto his bedside table and kicked off his shoes. If it had been a real date he’d be busy crowding Steve against the nearest flat surface and trying desperately to coax him into bed. But as pleasant as the evening had been, Bucky had to remember that it wasn’t entirely a real date, and even though they were kissing and cuddling and holding hands, Steve still didn’t seem keen to take it any further than that. Bucky tried to tell himself that was okay, as he listened to Steve brush his teeth behind the half open door. He’d meant what he’d said when he promised to keep his hands and thoughts to himself, but it was getting harder and harder to deny how much he liked Steve. How much he wanted him. And tonight they didn’t even have the excuse of being drunk. 

Steve had already unbuttoned his shirt when he stepped out of the bathroom. He was wearing an undershirt, but Bucky still longed to get his mouth all over those delicious collar bones and the well-defined lines of his jaw and neck. “Thank you for coming with me this evening.” 

“You kidding? Thank you for taking me.” Bucky returned. “I’m gonna be dreaming about those scallops for weeks.”

“Really? What about that cheesecake you seemed very taken with?” Steve smirked. 

“Hey. You said you didn’t mind if I finished yours off too,” Bucky protested.

“I didn’t.” Steve shrugged off his shirt and hung it up in the closet. His suit trousers followed promptly, and were equally folded and draped through a hanger, leaving him in just a thin cotton vest top and small black boxer shorts that left nothing to the imagination. It was pretty much what he’d worn to bed every night, but like the unmatched glory of a sunset, it was a sight Bucky was never going to stop appreciating. “I’d let you finish my cheesecake any day.”

Bucky huffed a laugh. “If that’s a euphemism, it’s a bad one.” 

“No euphemism.” He padded barefoot around to where Bucky was sitting on the foot of the bed, standing over him and carding a hand through Bucky’s hair. “Can I kiss you?”

“’Course,” Bucky breathed. “You don’t have to ask.”

Instead of replying, Steve leant down to capture Bucky’s lips with his own. He was soft and gentle for a few kisses until his tongue pushed its way into Bucky mouth drawing a moan from Bucky and he licked, and nipped, and used his teeth to gently tug on Bucky’s bottom lip. Bucky felt himself being pressed backwards until his back hit the bed and Steve was propped over him, one knee on the bed, the other stretched down to the floor and all of his weight resting on his forearms. He was holding himself just out of reach for Bucky to grind up against, and it took every ounce of Bucky’s self-control not to arch up from the bed or wrap his hands around Steve’s ass and pull him close. 

“I want you,” Bucky pleaded, already heady with pleasure. He slid his hands around Steve’s waist and pushed up underneath his vest and gripping the strong muscles in his back that moved and shifted under his grip. “It’s okay if you’re not ready.” Steve’s hands tugged firmly in Bucky’s hair. “But I want you, please. I want you to fuck me.”

Steve made a noise that rumbled from deep inside his chest.

“We’ll go as slow as you like,” Bucky was already panting for breath and his skinny jeans were growing uncomfortably tight. “But I want it. Whenever you’re ready.” He sucked on Steve’s lower lip and searched Steve’s eyes, finding them dark; his pupils blown with lust. 

“Fuck, Bucky. I want that too. More than anything.” 

“Then take me.” Bucky urged him, not caring how needy or desperate it made him sound. “I’ll walk you through it,” he added in case inexperience was the cause of Steve’s trepidation; not forgetting that Steve had started dating Peggy in college, and that at the beginning of the week Bucky had been forced to assume Steve was straight. 

Steve gave a dark chuckle and Bucky realised he’d sorely miscalculated. “I’m not completely inexperienced.” He whispered straight into Bucky’s ear. “Just out of practise, and,” he gave the juncture of Bucky’s jaw a peck before pulling back slightly, resting most of his weight on the leg still balanced on the floor. “I’ll be honest. This all still feels really soon; kind of... almost like I’m cheating on her.”

“Oh, Steve.” Bucky cupped Steve’s jaw and gave him the most sincere look he could muster; blissed and out desperate to be fucked as he was. “You’re not. You’re allow to move on, and you’re allowed to want without feeling guilty.” 

“I know.”

But knowing and believing were an entirely different kettle of fish, Bucky understood that all too well. 

“We can stop right here if you want to. Just say the word and we’ll stop. And I’ll maybe go and take a very cold shower,” he added with a small laugh. 

Steve stared at Bucky with a look that sucked all the laughter, and all of the breath out of his chest. His eyes were searching, his expression earnest. It felt like an important moment so Bucky made sure to maintain eye contact even though he could practically feel the weight of Steve’s gaze bearing down upon him. 

“I don’t want to stop.” Steve voice was thick and laced with desire. 

“Then don’t.” 

Steve held his eyes locked on Bucky’s for one long moment more, before he swooped back in to kiss him with a renewed intensity. This time he left no distance between them, rocking his body against Bucky’s and sending a deep thrum of arousal that sparked in Bucky’s belly like lightning. Bucky melted into the mattress and gave himself over to Steve’s kisses, knowing in that moment that his heart was utterly, utterly doomed. 

  



	27. Steve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter you've all been waiting for! (Sorry it took me nearly 60k+ words to get there 😂  
(This chapter is purely 1400 words of smut so if that's not your thing, feel free to skip it, it won't affect the plot. Also, I'm never sure ratings wise if this counts as M or E, it's more suggestive than anything else, but if you think I should change the rating, please let me know!)

Steve held himself propped on the foot of the bed, looming over Bucky who was spread out beneath him. Bucky’s expression was already blissed out, his hair artfully mussed and his lips pink and swollen from kissing.

“I don’t want to stop.” Steve admitted, more to himself than anything. He really didn’t want to stop. He wanted to let himself go and give into the desire that had been slowly building right from that first moment in the bar when Bucky had reached out for his hand and swiped his thumb delicately over the pulse point in Steve’s wrist.

“Then don’t.” Bucky made it sound so simple. His palm was cupped around Steve’s jaw, cradling Steve’s chin with such tender care. Steve leaned into the touch and stared down and Bucky for one long moment, losing himself in Bucky’s steel blue eyes which were darkened with lust, the pupils blow wide. In the end it _was_ simple, there was no reason to keep on denying himself when both of them clearly wanted it this much.

Steve swooped down to kiss Bucky with purpose this time. He rocked his body against Bucky’s, who instantly arched up to meet him, clashing their hips together and winding his hands around the back of Steve’s hand to pull his close and kiss him harder. Heat pooled low in Steve’s stomach and pleasure rolled through him as Bucky ground up against him. It felt so good, _so good_, and Steve lost track of all thoughts beyond kissing Bucky and drawing more delicious moans out of him.

He fumbled with the buttons of Bucky’s shirt and peeled it back from Bucky’s shoulders, kissing down Bucky’s throat and along his collar bones, paying particular attention to his shoulders before urging Bucky to sit up so he could slip the shirt from his arms. Steve leant back on the leg still propped on the floor and grabbed the hem of his own shirt pulling it up and over his head to be discarded on the floor. Bucky’s hands were on him in and instant, tracing across his pecs and the down the ridges of his stomach.

“God Steve, you’re _gorgeous.”_ Bucky’s hands were almost reverent with their touch. Steve could feel himself blushing. He worked hard to stay in shape and he knew he looked good. Whilst he hated being ogled there was something loving in Bucky’s tone which tugged on Steve’s heartstrings.

“So’re you.” Steve dove down to kiss Bucky again. This time he brought his other knee down on the mattress to that he was straddling Bucky’s lap.

Bucky’s hands immediately grabbed his hips and pulled towards him until their bodies were flush.

“God, why haven’t we been doing this from the start?” Bucky asked breathless against Steve’s jaw, rocking his hips up from the bed to force friction between them. Already Steve was impossibly hard, just from making out like teenagers. If they didn’t get a move on Steve wasn’t going to last, and now that they’d started there were so many things he wanted to do to Bucky.

“Do you,” Steve panted, “have stuff?”

“My suitcase.” Bucky replied immediately.

Steve climbed off Bucky’s lap with shaky legs and stumbled across to Bucky’s suitcase.

“The black washbag.” Bucky instructed, sounded breathless already.

Steve fished it out and unzipped it quickly finding condoms and lube and letting the bag fall back into Bucky’s suitcase. He turned back to the bed to find Bucky hastily shimmying out of his jeans. Jeans that had been almost obscenely tight, hugging his strong thighs and driving Steve mad all evening. Bucky was struggling to get them past his ankles without standing up so Steve chucked the items onto the bed and stepped forwards to help him, pulling them from Bucky’s legs with a strong tug that made Bucky yelp and then giggle with surprise.

“C’mere.” Bucky gestured for Steve and pulling him in for a couple of quick kisses before scooting his way back up the bed towards the pillows. He grinned up at Steve with a delightful twinkle in his eye and a pretty smirk on his lips that Steve had to wipe from Bucky’s face by finally reaching for his crotch.

Bucky gasped into Steve’s mouth which Steve caught with a kiss, and threw his arms around to Steve’s neck, clinging on for dear life and Steve’s deft fingers worked him over. If the sounds Bucky made from Steve’s fingers were music to Steve’s ears, it was nothing to sounds he made when Steve moved down to take Bucky into his mouth. It had been so long since he’d been with a man, he forgot just how much he loved all of this. How much he enjoyed the thick heavy weight on his tongue and the salty taste of skin in his mouth.

“_God_ Steve,” Bucky moaned and whimpered. His dropped his head back into the pillows and clutched his hands into Steve’s hair, not pushing just holding him close. “I can’t, please, I want…” Bucky trailed off with a hitched breath as Steve crawled back up to kiss him. Steve propped his chin on Bucky’s chest and grinned up at him.

“What do you want, Buck?” Steve asked feigning innocence and earning himself a swat on the shoulder.

“_You_. I want you.” Bucky whined. “Please?” He sounded strung out already and Steve couldn’t wait to hear what he sounded like when he was really wracked with pleasure.

It had been a while since Steve had done this, but any preliminary nerves quickly fell away with the way Bucky was responding to him and how readily he offered himself up to Steve. He took his time opening Bucky up, listening carefully to each hitched breath and each bitten off moan until Bucky was begging him for more. Bucky looked so beautiful splayed out against the pillowed, eyes screwed shut with pleasure, lips flushed and parted, hair falling every which way as he repeatedly ran his hands through it and tugged whenever Steve hit the right spot.

Steve wasn’t sure he’d ever seen anything so beautiful in his life and he certainly didn’t think he was deserving of it, but Bucky was repeating his name and calling for Steve to “get a fucking move on already,” and Steve was powerless to resist. 

When they finally came together it was bliss. Bucky’s hips rolled with such fluidity, drawing Steve’s pleasure out of him. His hands raked across Steve’s back sending shudders down Steve’s spine, and his breath was hot against Steve’s ear, muttering sweet nothings and encouragements shot through with high notes of pleasure. Everything else fell away but the two of them moving together. The world could have been ending outside by Steve would have neither noticed nor cared. Steve couldn’t remember it ever feeling so good with anyone else before, especially not the first time. Bucky was right, why had they wasted any time not entwined together like this? Steve would happily spend the rest of his life buried to the hilt Bucky’s tight heat, enveloped in his warm embrace.

Steve’s limbs were burning with exertion and his whole body tingled when he finally fell against Bucky’s chest, rolling to mattress bedside him, chest heaving and heart racing. He had no words. He may have mumbled Bucky’s name a few times but he honestly wasn’t sure. His thoughts were fuzzy and he felt weightless, flying on a high he never wanted to come down from. Eventually he found the strength to push himself to his feet and stumble to the bathroom for a washcloth.

When they were both cleaned up Steve threw all of the extraneous items from the bed and crawled under the covers with Bucky who instantly cuddled close. Steve carded his hands through Bucky’s hair as Bucky gave a deep contented hum which vibrated against Steve’s chest.

“Perfect end to a perfect day.” Bucky mumbled already sluggish with sleep. “Thank you.”

Steve pressed a kiss into Bucky’s hair and held him close. “Thank _you_.”

“So glad I met you.” It was little more than a murmur but it sent warmth spreading through Steve’s chest.

Steve reached above for the switch above the bed to turn out the lights and plunge the room into darkness. For a while he lay there listening to Bucky’s gentle breathing and marvelling at the man sleeping on his chest. It was a remarkable twist of fate that had brought them together. He already knew he was a better man for knowing Bucky, and Steve was grateful for whatever lucky stars had brought this wonderful man into his life. They may not have long together but Steve was determined not to waste another moment of their time together; he was going to make every last second count.


	28. Bucky

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short fluffy chapter 💖 Thanks for all of your comments!

Bliss. That was the only word to describe what Bucky felt as he fell asleep riding the high of a good orgasm and encircled safely in Steve’s arms.

“Perfect end to a perfect day,” he mumbled against Steve’s chest nuzzling close, feeling warm and sated and utterly content. “Thank you.”

Steve pressed another kiss into Bucky’s hair which made Bucky melt against him even more. How could such a simply touch send warmth spiralling trough Bucky’s core like that? He wriggled close and let Steve hug him tight against his chest.

“Thank _you_.” Steve murmured back.

Bucky might have mumbled else sentimental as he succumbed to sleep, quite unable the believe the fortuitous turn of events which had brought Steve into his life.

Bucky woke again in the small hours of the morning to use the bathroom, and although he crawled carefully back under the covers, he ended up waking Steve when he rearranged the covers to his liking.

“Mhmm, c’mere.” Steve slipped his hand around Bucky’s waist and hauled him close for a kiss that quickly ended up with Bucky straddling Steve and drawing another orgasm from them both. It sent a bone-deep pleasure buzzing through him, and when they fell back asleep Bucky felt utterly content. He would happily have slept like that for days, weeks years; suspended for eternity in post-coital bliss. Unfortunately, he was rudely awoken at the crack of dawn by Steve’s phone ringing loudly from the bedside table.

“Ugh,” Bucky rolled off Steve and pushed him towards his side of the bed so he could answer it and stop the annoying noise.

“Sorry.” Steve croaked. He glanced at the screen before answering it, but he clearly hadn’t read the name because when whoever was on the other end of the call began to speak Steve bolted out of bed. He coughed to clear his throat but he still sounded half asleep when he forced out a “Good Morning Mr. Brandt,” as he staggered across the room. Bucky watched Steve shuffle into a clean pair of boxer shorts and take the phone call out onto the balcony, before he gave up interest and burrowed back under the covers.

He’d almost fallen asleep again when Steve very sheepishly climbed back into bed with him.

“Sorry.” Steve pressed an apologetic kiss into Bucky’s hair and coaxed Buck to lift his torso so Steve could slip beneath him and wrap an arm around Bucky’s shoulder. Bucky moved obligingly and let his head fall against Steve’s chest, hoping Steve’s fingers would find their way to his hair. He wasn’t disappointed.

“Who was it?” He practically purred as Steve’s fingers carded across his scalp.

“Business.”

“You’re on holiday.” Bucky protested. Luckily, he’d managed to foist his own pending cases onto his colleagues and set up a strict out-of-office email that would make sure no work found its way to him whilst he was away, but Bucky supposed that wasn’t as easy if you ran the company.

“I know. Sam’s done a pretty good job of fielding my calls so far, but I had to take that one. Sorry it woke you.”

“Why’d’you have to take it?”

Steve gave a sigh and shifted further down the pillows. “Brandt’s been sniffing round the company for about a year now. Wants to invest.”

“That’s a bad thing?”

“It would mean handing over a sizable portion of the company, and it would probably mean opening an office in New York.”

“I hope you told him to fuck off.” Bucky mumbled. How dare anyone else profit off Steve’s hard work? Was the first thought that flashed through Bucky’s mind.

“Not this time. I set up a meeting with him for when I get back, actually.”

“Why?” Bucky twisted to look up at Steve and try to gauge how Steve felt about that. He looked pretty indifferent about it to be honest.

Steve shrugged and pushed his mouth to the side, considering his answer. “My circumstances have changed. I could never leave DC before and I didn’t trust anyone else to open up a new office for me, but now?” he sighed again. “Now New York doesn’t seem like such a bad idea. I can leave Sam in charge of DC. He practically runs the place anyway. And with Brandt on board, I can leave more of the glad-handing and CEO bullshit to him, and get back to what I actually like doing.”

“Which is what?”

“The art. Actually making the campaigns rather than just watching everyone else put them together.”

“I’m sure you do more than that,” Bucky scoffed.

“Yeah. But it’s boring as hell.” Steve’s fingers stilled in Bucky’s hair and he tensed for a moment before his hand tracked down Bucky’s spine and started tracing the outline of his ribs. “It would be a big change though.” He said in a small voice.

“Sometimes the best things are.” Bucky answered, equally soft. “You should do whatever makes you happy.”

Steve hummed. His hand slipped lower still until it came to rest on Bucky’s hip. “You know what would make me happy right now?”

“What’s that?” Bucky grinned up at Steve, figuring he had a pretty good idea.

Steve leant down kiss him in reply, rolling Bucky onto his back and planting his forearms either side of Bucky’s head to hold himself up. They kissed long and hard, but just as Bucky was getting delightfully turned on, Steve pulled back. “Breakfast.” He grinned wolfishly and gave Bucky one last kiss before rolling away and actually climbing out of bed. “C’mon it’s nearly 9. The buffet will be open.”

“Oh, you fucking tease.” Bucky complained. He squirmed to the edge of the bed and reached out to catch Steve’s arm. “Get back in bed and fuck me, now, you bastard.”

Steve grinned entirely too proud of himself for toying with Bucky like this. “We can’t spend all day in bed. I know you had something on your itinerary for today.”

“No, I didn’t.” Bucky lied. “Let’s spend all day in bed?” He pulled on Steve’s arm a little childishly until Steve let himself fall back onto the matress. Bucky blinked up at him and, for a moment, he forgot how to breathe. The balcony doors were still open and they let light flood into the room with a gentle breeze that caused dust mites to dance through the shafts of sunlight. Where he was sitting on the side of the bed, Steve was positioned perfectly in a pool of warm light which made the ends of his hair shine like gold. Staying in bed all day seemed like a very good idea indeed.

“What was the plan for today?”

Bucky closed his eyes to think. “Waterfalls.” There was a shuttle service from the hotel that dropped you at the foot of a hiking trail that looped around the mountain and the surrounding jungle, supposedly passing about sixteen waterfalls on the way. Bucky had actually been really looking forward to it.

“Oh, the hiking trip? I wanted to do that.”

“We can do it tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow we’re scuba diving.”

“Really? Since when?”

“Well, only if you want to. I had it pre-booked.” Steve found Bucky’s hand and interlaced their fingers.

“I want to.” Bucky admitted. He also really wanted to see the waterfalls, which means that they had to get out of bed or they were going to run out of days to fit everything in. “_Fine_. ” he gave a loud and dramatic sigh. “I guess we can do the hike today.”

Steve grinned.

“But, compromise.” He held up a finger, still laying firmly amongst the pillows and making no move to get up yet. “We order room service for breakfast and you make good on your earlier promise before we even think about getting out of bed.”

“What earlier promise?” Steve smirked.

Bucky mock-glowered at him.

“I never made a promise.”

“Fuck you, Rogers.”

Steve leant close and pressed a kiss against the shell of Bucky’s ear before whispering. “If you want.”

Bucky’s breath caught in his throat. “Really?”

“If you want.” He stroked Bucky’s hair back from his face and began to pepper kisses all along Bucky’s jaw as Bucky’s brain all but whited-out from the idea of that alone. They were definitely cycling back to that prospect, but that wasn’t what Bucky needed or wanted right then.

“Another time.” He made Steve promise.

“Another time.” Steve agreed. _Fuck_, how was Steve even real? How was Bucky possibly going to survive this week?

“Right now, I just need you.”

“Mhmm.” Steve moved to capture Bucky’s mouth and Bucky kissed back with fervour. Kissing Steve had been wonderful from the start but it was only getting better as they learnt what the other did and didn’t like. Steve nipped gently at Bucky’s bottom lip which sent heat coiling in Bucky’s stomach, before pulling back and leaving Bucky bereft _again_. He didn’t go far this time though, just reaching for the hotel phone and calling down for room service.

“Get some extra pastries,” Bucky stage whispered. “So, we can take them for lunch.” He’d been planning to fill his pockets at the breakfast buffet to make a picnic for the hike.

Steve frowned at him and covered the receiver with the palm of his hand. “You can order packed lunches from the hotel, you know?”

“Yes.” Bucky rolled his eyes. “But they’re expensive.”

Steve arched an eyebrow and shook his head with a somewhat exasperated yet fond expression, and proceeded to place an order for a packed picnic as well as the breakfast. “My treat.” He promised Bucky after he put the phone down and crawled back into bed. The sheets were hopelessly mussed and rucked by now, they were going to need to leave a really good tip for housekeeping.

“You’re going to spoil me.” Bucky complained, only half joking. Steve really was going to have ruined him for everyone else after this week. How was anyone else even going to come close by comparison? Bucky decided not to linger on that thought and focused instead on letting himself completely fall apart under Steve’s hands.


	29. Bucky

“Do you think we’re, maybe, underdressed for this walk?” Bucky muttered under his breath to Steve as they bounced along the forest track towards the start of the hiking trail. After lazing in bed, taking their time over breakfast, and then enjoying a shower together afterwards, they’d finally managed to catch the shuttle at 11; which turned out to be an open sided truck with two rows of benches set facing each other. There were a few other couples in the truck with them, each dressed in sturdy hiking boots and khakis, many with hiking poles and cargo hats. It made Bucky – who was wearing Reebok shorts and a NASA t-shirt, along with his least worn pair of sneakers and a Cincinnati Reds cap – feel rather underprepared. At least he looked more the part than Steve did in his chinos, sneakers and short sleeved henley.

“What did the info say about the trail?” Steve leant close to whisper conspiratorially back.

“The guidebook said ‘moderate’.” Bucky shrugged. For an ex-ranger ‘moderate’ usually translated to a walk in the park, but as the truck rumbled and wove its way deeper into the rolling hills, he began to think he’d maybe underestimated.

“We’ll be fine.” Steve smiled unconcerned. He gave Bucky a sneaky peck on the cheek before settling back against the side of the truck, propping his elbow through the open window gap and letting his eyes track the views as they flashed passed. Well, if Steve wasn’t worried, Bucky wasn’t going to let himself be. It wasn’t like they had to do the whole trail; as long as they saw one waterfall, Bucky would be happy. Heck, he’d be happy just spending the day in Steve’s company. He reached for Steve’s hand to entwine their fingers and let his head fall on Steve’s shoulder.

“How sweet.” The lady sitting opposite them commented. Bucky flicked his eyes across to her without leaving his comfortable position. She looked in her fifties, and was wearing a blue cargo hat that matched the man’s sitting next to her. “Honeymoon?” She asked.

“Yeah.” Bucky replied because it was easier than explaining. He felt Steve give his hand a squeeze.

“We were married here thirty years ago when the resort first opened.” She smiled at them. “We come back every year for our anniversary.”

“Congratulations.” Steve wished the pair of them. “Thirty years is a long time.”

“Not if you spend it with the right person.” Her husband answered and they shared a sickeningly sweet smile with each other.

Bucky felt a pang of jealousy at how happy they looked. He’d give anything to have another thirty days with Steve, let alone thirty years.

“It’ll be gone before you know it.” The woman promised, not knowing how accurate her words were.

The truck dropped them at the foot of the hiking trail which turned out to be a beaten earth track that fanned out in a few different directions, all heading into a thick tangle of jungle. The info Bucky had read online suggested taking the track to the left, so Bucky shouldered his rucksack, pulled the straps tight and inclined his head towards it, trusting Steve to follow. The other couples all disappeared down the different routes, which Bucky was secretly glad of. He didn’t want to spend all day making awkward small talk with perfect strangers.

The trail had a gradual incline but the footing was mainly even, and although the ground had thoroughly dried out from the rain storm a few days ago, it felt slightly springy underfoot which made the first part of the hike a breeze. The canopy of trees kept them shaded from the heat of the late morning sun, but the cloying heat of the island’s humidity – far more noticeable now they were away from the sea breeze – made it impossible to maintain a fast pace. So, they ambled, slowly, taking in the sights of the tropical flowers sprouting between the trees and listening to the calls of birds unlike anything you’d hear back home in Indiana or DC. One particularly high-pitched trill had Bucky scanning the trees for any signs of birds that could make such a sound. He wasn’t unused to the climate or the wildlife, he'd been through jungle training with his ranger unit (this leisurely stroll really was a walk in the park compared to that), but he hadn’t been able to stop and enjoy any of it back then.

“’The isle is full of noises, sounds and sweet airs, that give delight, and hurt not.’” Steve muttered almost to himself. His attention was fixed on the trees like he was also scanning for any signs of the tropical birding singing such an ethereal and strange song at them.

Bucky recognised the quote as Shakespearean and it made him grin. Steve really was full of surprises. “Midsummer Night’s Dream?” he guessed.

“What?”

“The quote?”

Steve didn’t seem to have realised he’d spoken out loud. “Oh, close. The Tempest actually.”

“Is that the one with Viola and the twins?” Bucky asked. He loved that play, and all of the ones with mistaken identities and characters disguising themselves as the opposite gender. He’d didn’t recognise the quote though.

“No, but that one does also start with a shipwreck.” Steve’s mouth twisted into smile. “The Tempest’s got Prospero and Miranda? The one with Caliban? They’re in exile.”

“Don’t think I’ve read that one.” Bucky admitted. Although he devoured books, he was more into contemporary writers. He hadn’t strayed much into the classics beyond what they’d been forced to read at school. He’d have done a literature module at college if he’d been able to, but the fast track degree sponsored by the army hadn’t left much room for electives.

“It’s one of my favourites.”

“Really?”

Steve hummed. “We are such stuff as dreams are made on.” He quoted by way of explanation.

Bucky stopped walking so he could just stare at Steve for a moment. It took a few paces for Steve to realise and halt too. He turned back, eyebrows raised in confusion. Dappled sunlight fell around him and glistened off the sweat beading on his forehead and the v of his chest visible through the open neck of his Henley. This shirt itself was starting to stick to his waist and shoulders as the damp humidity made the material cling. Yeah, he was a dream alright.

“You can just casually quote Shakespeare, huh?” Bucky laughed, unable to tear his eyes from Steve.

Steve dipped his head, trying to hide the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I've just got a good memory for that sort of thing.”

“Humble too.” Bucky muttered. He shook his head at Steve before striding up the path beyond him. “What am I going to do with you?”

They chatted for a while about the plays Bucky had read, deciding the jungle was definitely a contender for the magic forest of A Midsummer Night’s Dream, with Steve joking that someone might appear around the corner a cast a love spell on them.

_Too late_. Bucky thought, but caught himself before he could say it out loud. “As long as they don't give me an asses head, I don't really care.” He laughed instead.

“That would be redundant, seeing as you're ready an ass.” Steve teased.

“Ha! You punk.” Bucky gave Steve a good-natured shove, shocked but delighted by the new side he was seeing of Steve now that he was finally, finally coming out of his shell.

It took a few more twists and turns of the path before they saw anything that even barely resembled a waterfall, even then it was only a trickle of rain runoff down a rocky outcrop.

“That better not count as one of the sixteen.” Bucky complained.

“Not one of.” Steve laughed. “Look at how it splits, there? That's three waterfalls for sure.”

Thankfully, Steve was very, very wrong. Bucky didn't notice it at first, but after a while he started to hear a low roar over the twittering of the birds in the trees. He eventually recognised the sound as running water but even then, he glanced at the sky to check it hadn't started raining before he realised what he was hearing.

“Waterfall!” He took off at a sprint around a long loop until he rounded a spur of the mountainside and saw a spectacular ribbon of water falling down a rocky cliff face into a clear pool below. Someone had built an intricate wooden bridge that almost looked like it had been woven from tree roots to span in front of the waterfall and rejoin the footpath on the other side. Bucky ran out onto the middle of the bridge and gaped at the beautiful fall of the water, feeling the spray douse his face with cool droplets.

“Wow.” Steve whispered softly from by his side. “_That's_ definitely a waterfall.” Steve wrapped his arm around Bucky's waist as they both stood, slack jawed before the view for a moment. Up close the sound was drowned out everything else, even the noisy thoughts and worries from Bucky's mind. When he turned to kiss Steve, long and unhurried under the spray from the waterfall, Bucky was without a care in the world.

=

He knew they should keep moving, they’d hardly got far along the trail, but Bucky was reluctant to move on. It was all too enticing: the way the sunlight hit the spray cast a rainbow that danced and shimmered against the rocks; the water was cool and refreshing and with Steve’s arm wrapped snugly round his waist; Bucky could happily have stood there forever. It was only the lure of bigger waterfall, one with a pool they could swim in – the one that had been plastered on all of the travel guides – that gave the Bucky the motivation to keep slogging up the footpath.

Before long, he felt like he was dipping with sweat; his cotton t-shirt chaffed uncomfortably and his feet were overheating in his sneakers. Bucky was beginning to worry that the guide books had lied, when the path levelled out and great grass covered boulders began to line the track. After scrambling between the rocks and roots of great sprawling trees, the trail opened up into a glade filled with deep pool carved beneath a wide, cascading waterfall. Bucky stumbled to a halt on top of one of the boulders and stared. Steve scrambled up to balance on the rock behind Bucky, holding on to the straps of Bucky’s rucksack to stop them both from toppling over.

“Woah.”

Bucky grinned up at Steve over his shoulder. “Fancy a swim?”

Without waiting for an answer, Bucky hurried down to the pool. He dropped his rucksack on a rock at the edge, kicked off his shoes and peeled himself out of his t-shirt and shorts. He didn’t bother changing into his trunks, just shucked off his underwear too, and then leapt into the pool. The water was cool and refreshing and Bucky took a few moments to wallow completely submerged before breaking the surface and gasping a deep lungful of air. He shook the water from his hair and turned to find Steve standing where Bucky had left him, watching with a dazed expression.

“Planning to join me?” Bucky grinned.

“Let me just grab my trunks.”

“Don’t bother, there’s no one here!”

“What if someone comes along?”

“Who?” Bucky laughed. He swam over the edge of the pool and propped his chin on folded arms, staring up at Steve. “Skinny dipping makes it seem more daring.”

“Swimming in a natural waterfall’s not daring enough already?” Steve laughed.

Bucky just fluttered his eyes lashes at Steve and earned himself an eyeroll.

“Fine.” Steve began to strip. He hesitated over his boxer shorts, hands hovering on the waistband as he glanced over his shoulder at their completely deserted jungle surroundings.

“Come on, you’re not scared, are you?” Bucky teased.

Steve took a deep breath and clenched his stomach muscles before stripping quickly out of his shorts. Steve naked was a sight Bucky was never going to get tired of. Bucky stared unabashedly, making Steve blush a lovely tomato colour that seeped across his chest, before he slipped into the pool and swam over towards Bucky. The pool was deep, and it was just possible for Bucky to stand, balancing on the slimy, slippery rocks at the bottom of the pool. He pushed himself up onto his tiptoes and slung his arms around Steve’s neck to haul him in for a kiss.

“Mhmm. I could get used to this.” Bucky mummed against Steve’s mouth.

“Skinny dipping?” he laughed.

“Kissing you.” Bucky corrected, also laughing. “You dolt.”

Steve let his hands slide under the water and hook under Bucky’s thighs, lifting him and guiding Bucky’s legs to wrap around his waist. “So could I.”

Bucky tensed his core and gripped tightly to Steve, hooking his ankles behind Steve’s back and pushing himself up to kiss Steve again. The water lapped gently around their shoulders whilst the waterfall trickled pleasantly behind them, and the tropical birds continued to call to each other with chirps and twittering songs. Bucky lost himself in the sensation of kissing Steve and slowly began to feet pleasure building with the familiar sensation in his lower stomach, like a hook behind drawn up behind his navel. But before they could think about going further, Steve’s stomach rumbled loudly and broke the moment.

“Sorry,” he muttered, laughing against Bucky’s shoulder as his stomach growled in protestation of his hunger.

“S’alright.” Bucky let his legs drop to the floor and grinned. “Lunch first, sex later.”

“You’re insatiable.”

Bucky winked and waded towards the rocks where they’d left their clothes.

“I’m not fucking you in a forest pool.” Steve called to Bucky as he climbed out of the water and laid himself out on a rock to air dry.

“Sure you’re not.”

Bucky had always been comfortable with nudity, you no choice but to be whilst living practically on top of each other in an army barracks or roughing it with his ranger unit. So, Bucky was completely without qualms as he folded his arms behind his head and tilted his face back to catch a few soft rays of sunlight which fell through the canopy of trees overhead. Steve seemed far less sure of himself as he settled onto a rock beside Bucky; he folded his legs up to his chest and curled in on himself. No doubt college rowing locker rooms had little in common with the army.

But as the day wore on and they continued to bask on the rocks like lizards in the sun, Steve began to lose his self-consciousness. By the time they’d polished off the sandwiches packed for them by the hotel, Steve was lounging with one-foot dangling in the water, one arm propped under his head and the other was idly twisting in front of his face, catching the play of the sunlight on his fingertips. He looked like a Greek god from an old renaissance painting; golden, softly tanned, composed entirely of strong muscles and smooth edges. Bucky couldn’t ask to take a photo of Steve laid out like that, it would have felt like an invasion of his privacy, instead Bucky tried to commit the image to his memory; knowing full well this would be day he would remember vividly for the rest of his life.

No one bothered them for the whole afternoon and, for a while, it felt like they were the only two people in the world. After digesting their lunch, they swam some more and found a few handy vines that allowed them to climb part way up the waterfall and dive in with shrieks and howls of laughter that echoed through the empty forest and scared off half the birds. A little more exploration revealed, if not a cave, then a hollow behind the waterfall plenty big enough for two.

Steve remained adamant that they weren’t going to have sex in public – despite all of Bucky’s assurances that there wasn’t another soul around them. But apparently it didn’t count as sex when Bucky worked an orgasm from Steve with his mouth, nor when Steve returned he favour with his hand; in a leisurely, sleepy manner that left both of them napping in each other’s arms behind the protective curtain of the waterfall.

Everything about that afternoon felt idyllic and unreal, like they really had wandered into a magical realm or entered a waking dream. Bucky was hesitant to leave, because leaving would mean returning to real life. It would mean the day was over and they were one day closer to going home; back to Indiana for Bucky, and whether Steve went back to DC of New York didn’t mean he would be any closer. But the y couldn't stay forever, and if they missed the last shuttle it would be a very long hike back to the hotel, so Bucky let himself be cajoled in drying off and getting dressed. He let Steve shoulder the backpack for their return hike, and took Steve’s hand as they made their back along the trail towards the pick-up point, back towards the hotel; moving closer to their departure with step.

Bucky knew they had a few days left, neither of them were flying home until Sunday; but as they boarded the jeep and started bouncing back towards the hotel, it felt like a watershed moment; and Bucky couldn’t help but feel like a countdown had been placed above their heads, slowly marking the moments left until they’d be forced to say goodbye.


	30. Steve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for your wonderful comments! I'm really blown away by the response this story is getting <333 I'm so glad so many people are enjoying it and hope I can keep meeting your expectations! xoxo

Steve pulled Bucky in close before they rounded the last corner that would bring them to the end of the trail and to the truck waiting to take them back to the hotel, and leant in close to give Bucky a long, lingering kiss. He tasted like river water, and his skin was damp from swimming and the sweat they’d worked up on the walk back. It made Bucky’s hair stick to his forehead, curled into tendrils and even more voluminous than normal thanks to the humidity. Steve wasn’t sure he’d ever seen anyone look so beautiful in all his life. He wanted to thank Bucky for the day, for drawing him out of his shell, letting him explore a wild side of himself that Steve hadn’t even known existed before, but words failed him, so instead Steve swooped in for another kiss before tugging on Bucky’s hand and dragging him back to the truck.

Although they were sticky and it was too hot to sit comfortably pressed together, Steve let his thigh brush against Bucky’s as they trundled back to the resort, and slung his arm around Bucky’s shoulder. He knew they were being watched by the other couples in the truck with them, but Steve didn’t give a damn. He twisted to pressed a kiss into Bucky’s still damp hair before settling back against the side of truck and closing his eyes to enjoy the faint breeze that wafted over them as they drove.

The sun was slowly sinking towards the horizon as they disembarked at the hotel. Steve knew they wouldn’t have long, but he was suddenly overtaken by an idea that he couldn’t get out of his mind. He grabbed the rucksack from the truck and laced his fingers through Bucky’s, pulling Bucky along behind him as he darted up the steps to the lobby and then detoured towards the bar and the patio doors instead of making his way towards the bank of elevators.

“Where are we going?” Bucky asked, letting himself be pulled along, across the patio and over towards the pool.

Steve didn’t answer, instead he dropped the rucksack on one of the empty sun-loungers and peeled his t-shirt over his head. They’d both changed into their swimming trunks for the hike back, rather than bothering to dry off properly and change back into boxers and shorts, so it was the easiest thing in the world to dive into the cool, clear waters of the swimming pool. Steve broke the surface to find Bucky laughing at him and hastening to squirm out of his own t-shirt and jump into the pool behind him.

“You’re crazy,” Bucky laughed. “Doesn’t the pool close at sunset?”

“We’ve got time.” Steve grinned back. He planted his feet on the slippery tiles at the bottom and pulled Bucky in for a kiss, keeping it as chaste as possible with the disapproving eyes of the guests at the bar prickling at the back of his neck. But Bucky had other ideas and quickly wove his hand round the back of Steve’s neck, holding him close and kissing him with feeling. He broke away suddenly, leaving Steve feeling flushed and breathless, and sent a wave of water splashing over Steve’s face. Bucky tipped his head back to laugh, crinkling his eyes up in delight as Steve splashed him back.

Bucky ducked under the water and swam away from Steve, twisting and twirling as a graceful blur under the water, before he surfaced over by the lip of the infinity pool that looked out over the beach and the sunset. He folded his arms over the edge and propped his chin on them, fixing his gaze out over the horizon. Steve watched for a few heartbeats before sliding through the water to join him.

“I really enjoyed today.” Steve said, finding his words at last. “Thank you.”

“Me too.” Bucky twisted his head so that his cheek was pressed against his forearms and his eyes were locked onto Steve’s face. He gave Steve a smile that looked truly content and Steve felt warmth spread through his chest despite the growing chill of the pool. Steve didn’t want the day to end, he could happily have floated there beside Bucky watching the sunset for an eternity. But of course, it had to set sooner or later, lighting the sky ablaze with cotton candy glow, and all too soon the lifeguard came to usher them out of the pool. They borrowed towels from the poolside stash and made a lacklustre effort to dry off before heading back to their room a sharing a shower that turned into something more, and left Steve feeling sated and exhausted in the best possible way.

He wrapped himself in a robe and fell backwards onto the bed, half-heartedly towelling off his hair as he watched Bucky pad around the room naked, looking for clothes and fixing his hair in the mirror on the wall. The domesticity of it no longer felt strange, it just felt _right_. Especially when Bucky made a swipe at Steve’s thigh and criticised him for being lazy.

“C’mon, get outta bed. We’ve gotta go eat.”

“Room service?” Steve suggested sleepily.

“We had room service for breakfast.” Bucky replied.

“So?”

But Bucky apparently had some strange notions about the amount of times you were allowed to order room service in one day, so Steve forced himself into a pair of slacks and cotton shirt and followed Bucky back down to the bar. They took a table right by the open window where a soft breeze played gently with the candle set between them, and ordered two mountainous portions of burgers, fries, a salad to share, and some sweet chilli prawns and fried clams, just because they could. Foregoing desert, Bucky decided they deserved more of those pineapple cocktails from their first night and Steve was all to happy to traipse down to the beach and settle in the cool sand.

Steve thought back to the man he'd been a week ago when he’d first ventured down to this beach – the man barely holding back tears, reeling from his life being flip-turned upside down – and was stunned by the difference. A week ago, it felt like his life was falling apart, but Steve now realised it was a life he’d never really wanted; he’d just been caught up in it and swept along, unable to determine his own wants and desires. Steve had never wanted to be that person who spent all of his energy at work and left no room for hobbies, who was reluctant to voice his opinions or to have deep, meaningful conversations with his partner for fear of messing everything up. He hadn’t even realised how far he’d sunk into that life and how miserable he’d really been. Peggy had been right, they’d fallen out of love a long time ago, it had just taken some distance - and some_one_ with brilliant blue eyes and a charming smile, someone who knew what they wanted and wasn’t afraid to ask for it, someone skilled at drawing Steve out of his shell and patient enough to soothe him through the aftershocks of opening up - for Steve to see it.

Bucky had helped Steve discover a whole new side of himself, a wild, spontaneous side that let a stranger talk him into sharing a hotel room, that spilled secrets he hadn't shared with anyone else, that danced and sang at a wedding with people he didn’t really know, went skinny dipping in forest pools and made out behind waterfalls; and Steve had loved every second of it. Those were the type of characteristics Steve had long envied and admired in other people but never thought he was capable of himself.

Steve gently set his empty pineapple in the sand and lay back, crocking one arm behind his head and snaking the other around Bucky’s waist to draw him in close. Bucky understood what Steve was silently asking for and quickly slurped down the rest of his cocktail before dropping his pineapple off to the side and burrowing down in the sand beside Steve. Bucky’s head came to rest against Steve’s chest and he bent an arm across his chest to clutch at the hand Steve had draped around Bucky’s shoulder. It was soft and peaceful as the stars gently wheeled above them and their breathing fell in sync. They lay like that for eons, or maybe just for half an hour or so until the cold from the sand began to seep into their bones and they decided to stumble sleepily towards their bed.

Tipsy from generous helpings of tequila, Steve and Bucky fell into bed too sluggish and lethargic to do anything more than kiss and fall asleep entwined in each other's arms. Steve didn't mind, they had time. They still had plenty of time. So far, this week felt like it had lasted a lifetime and it was strange to imagine how Steve had lived so long without knowing Bucky, without seeing his smile in the morning and hearing his grumbled requests for coffee. But time, as Steve soon discovered, was elastic. Just as days could be stretched into moments that spanned eternities, they could also disappear in the blink of an eye. 

Snorkelling came and went in a blur of bubbles and tropical fish, with Bucky grinning around his snorkel and making very suggestive facial expressions as they kicked their flippered feet and swam above a coral reef full of colours and marine wildlife the likes of which were beyond Steve’s wildest dreams. Likewise, dinner with Becca and Rob - where it was almost impossible to tell who were the true honeymooning couple, as both pairs practically spent all evening staring fondly at each other and ignoring anything else happening outside of their own little bubbles - flashed by in an instant. 

On Wednesday, Steve and Bucky took the ferry back to the mainland and spent the day strolling hand in hand through a colourful market place, tasting local foods and goading each other into buying ridiculous souvenirs. Steve quickly discovered that there wasn't anything Bucky wouldn’t eat, that Steve was actually quite squeamish by Bucky's standards, and that Bucky definitely didn't shy away from mocking Steve for his conservative opinions on food. They marvelled at the beautiful carvings and decorated tiles in an old monastery in the centre of town, and kissed in the dappled light under beautifully sculpted trees, surrounded by arrays of colourful flowers in a formal garden, before catching the ferry back at just the right moment to watch the sun setting into the sea with a hiss and sizzle and a blaze of golden red-orange light. Steve stood behind Bucky in the bow, feeling the wind whip through his hair and enjoying the warm solid weight of Bucky’s back pressed against his chest. He really did feel like he was on top of the world. 

It was a shock when Steve awoke on Friday morning - feeling a little sunburnt from a day spent poolside, and with a well-earned ache in his thighs from making Bucky come three times during the night - and realised they only had two days left. Steve stretched and yawned, and slid out of bed as quietly as possible, determined not to wake Bucky who was passed out on the pillow beside him. There really was no other word for it. He was sprawled face down on the bed, his jaw was slack, hair mussed and splayed everywhere, one leg half hitched beneath him which stuck his hips up at an odd angle, and one arm flopped over the side of the bed whilst the other clutched tightly to the twisted, mussed up sheets. He was drooling and snoring gently, and it really shouldn’t have been an attractive sight but it made Steve’s heart sing. God, he was going to miss waking up beside Bucky when this week was over.

Steve went to the toilet and cleaned his teeth as quietly as he could, and dropped to the floor beside the bed to work through his normal morning routine of stretches and press-ups which had been sorely neglected this week. The stretches had the desired effect on his muscles but not on his mind, which was trying to process where the last few days had disappeared to and how they could possibly have flashed passed in the blink of an eye when he’d been purposefully trying to savour every moment. Steve had known there was a shelf-life on this relationship before it had begun. He’d known they were going to have to say goodbye and part ways at some point. It had been a scary enough prospect a week ago. Now, facing down their deadline with a meagre 48-hours left, it was enough to terrify Steve; he wasn’t sure he’d have the strength to say goodbye.

Steve opened up the balcony doors and stepped out into the early-morning sunshine to move through various yoga poses that normally helped to clear his mind; but even they weren’t having their desired effect, he needed to go for a run if he really wanted to calm his thoughts. Bucky was still slumbering on, fast asleep, as Steve changed into small amount of work-out gear he’d allowed himself to pack for his honeymoon. Although he suspected Bucky would have continued to sleep peacefully and would probably still be out for the count by the time Steve got back, he couldn’t bring himself to leave without an explanation.

“Good morning, Buck.” Steve said gently, sweeping Bucky’s tangled hair back from his forehead. Bucky mumbled something incoherent and sleep-addled in response. “I’m going for a run. I won’t be long.” He pressed a kiss to Bucky’s temple and Bucky finally stirred.

He scrunched his face up at Steve in what Steve suspected was a frown. “What time is it?”

“Just after six.”

“You’re fucking crazy.” Bucky mumbled. He rubbed at his eyes and rolled onto his back, smacking his lips and few times before blinking his eyes open at Steve and letting his face dawn into a sleepy smile. “God, I feel _wrecked_ this morning.” He looked delighted by that fact and Steve felt pride swell within him.

“Yeah?”

“Mhmm.” He let his head loll on the pillow and appraised Steve’s clothes. “You’re really going for a run?”

“I need to clear my head.”

Bucky snorted. “Well don’t clear it too much, else there won’t be any brain function left.” He teased.

Steve laughed and planted a sloppy kiss on Bucky’s cheek in retaliation. “You’re welcome to come with me.”

“No thanks. Not if you paid me a million dollars.” Bucky muttered sleepily. “I’m on holiday. I’m sleeping ‘til noon.”

“Alright. I’ll bring you back some breakfast.”

“Thanks, you’re the best.” Bucky muttered and rolled back onto his front to smush his face back into the pillow.

Steve stood and watched for a moment before he managed to pull himself away. He didn’t want to leave. He didn’t want to waste a single moment, but Steve knew if he didn’t get a handle on his thoughts now he’d be an anxious, fraught mess all day and that wasn’t how he wanted to spend his last days with Bucky. Christ. Saying goodbye was going to be one of the hardest things Steve had ever had to do.


	31. Bucky

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all of your wonderful comments:D <3 I love reading them all so much! 
> 
> Warning for a mild panic attack and some sexual content (the two aren't linked!) - more details in the endnotes.

With the countdown looming over their last few days, Bucky tried his best to pay attention and enjoy every sun soaked, beautiful moment of it; which wasn’t difficult when each moment seemed even more perfect than the last. They snuck a swim at sunset to cool off after their hike back through the jungle, and indulged themselves with too much food in the bar, playing footsie under the table whilst an easy conversation flowed between them. Bucky had an itch to see the stars again and dragged Steve down to the beach, content to curl up by Steve’s side and lose himself in the sounds of Steve’s breathing and the soft splash of waves lapping at the shore. The Milky Way arched above them, dusting the inky black sky with mesmerising traces of greens, blues and purples. Before long, the cold set in and Bucky’s shoulder began to ache but he didn’t care, with his head cushioned on Steve’s chest and their arms clasped together it was hard to care about anything.

Steve did eventually move them inside where they fell into bed exhausted and too sleep-dazed to share anything more than kisses. Bucky fell asleep with his mouth against Steve’s neck and his mind blissfully carefree.

There was a dicey moment on Tuesday, when Bucky tried to fit the scuba mask over his face and took a noisy breath of oxygen from the tanks strapped to his back. All at once he was back in the chopper with Sgt. Wilson strapping a mask to his face to give him gas and air as he tried to treat Bucky’s mangled arm – he was in the operating theatre, coming round from surgery and falling into shock – he was on a gurney being prepped for surgery being asked to count back from ten – he was…

Bucky shucked off the mask and wrenched at the clasps of the oxygen tanks and the weight belts frantic, breathing heavily as he tried to get himself free.

“Calm down!” The instructor snapped at him. “Be careful with that!”

Bucky paid him no attention, throwing the equipment to the bottom of the boat and stepping back to brace his hands on the rails at the side, staring down at the clear blue waters as he tried to remember how to breathe. Counting in and out, grounding himself by focusing on the feel of the boat beneath his feet and focusing on take deep breaths of salty sea air. He was fine. His arm had healed. He was fine.

Behind him, Bucky heard Steve cursing under his breath and, when he felt calm enough to try, Bucky glanced over his shoulder to see Steve wrestling to pull his feet out of his flippers so he didn’t trip in his attempt to rush to Bucky’s aid.

“Buck, are you okay?” Steve looked comical with his goggles pushed haphazardly over his head and his hair sticking up at odd angles underneath. His eyes were wide and he looked so concerned that Bucky couldn’t help but smile.

He took a few deep, shoulder shuddering breaths, appreciating the comforting hand Steve lay between his shoulder blades, and finally found his voice.

“Yeah. Fine.” He croaked. “Will be anyway.” He assured Steve before flushing with guilt and glancing at the tangling wreck of equipment he’d left on the floor. “Sorry,” he apologised sheepishly to the instructor who was still scowling at him. One severe look from Steve though, and the instructor’s scowl quickly disappeared.

“Do you have any snorkels?” Steve asked the instructor and just like that, the day was back on track. Bucky didn’t mind biting around the end of a snorkel, not when he could let it fall from his mouth the instant it felt too claustrophobic, and it using to blow bubbles at Steve’s face, or shoot jets of water at him proved far too much fun.

They kept the flippers and the wetsuits, and paddled around above the coral reef watching all the same tropical fish and impossibly bright clusters of coral they’d have seen scuba diving. The only difference was they could surface whenever they liked and lift their masks to share kisses that tasted like sunscreen and salt water every now and again - which was an improvement in Bucky’s book.

Steve didn’t mention the panic attack and by the time they met up with Rob and Becca for dinner again that evening, Bucky had completely forgotten about it.

"You look happy." Becca commented over dessert, whilst Rob had excused himself to find the bathroom and had Steve hurried over the maître d’s desk to pay before Rob or Becca could argue with him. "Happier than I've seen you in a long time."

Bucky glanced across the room towards Steve, watching him wait for the check, hip cocked against the bar, and his soft white shirt clinging faintly to his muscles. It really wasn't fair how effortlessly he could look so good.

"I am." Bucky said, which was the truth of it.

Becca hummed and fidgeted with the stem of her wine glass, angling her hand so the new golden band on her ring finger flashed in the light. Bucky had noticed during dinner that she kept fiddling with the ring, kept using that hand to brush her hair behind her ear, kept readjusting how her hand sat on the table. It had been the same when she and Rob first got engaged and she kept subconsciously finding any excuse to flash her engagement ring at anyone who would pay attention. Bucky knew she wasn’t doing it intentionally and he couldn’t help but smile.

"I hope you've thought this through." Becca said, suddenly stern and Bucky’s smile was wiped from his face.

"What?"

"_This_.” She gestured between him and Steve’s empty chair. “The two of you and what happens on Sunday when he goes back to…wherever."

“DC.”

“Right. DC.” Becca clasped her hands on the table and looked Bucky straight in the eye with a look that was eerily reminiscent of their mom. “Are you going to try long-distance? You know that rarely works…”

“No. It's just a fling.” Bucky tried to assure Becca. “We both made that clear at the start.”

“Really?” She arched an eyebrow.

“Really.”

Becca looked far from convinced. To be honest Bucky wasn’t convinced himself. Fortunately, Steve saved Bucky from having to defend himself any further by returning to the table with a giant beaming grin. He settled himself beside Bucky, throwing his arm around the back of Bucky's chair and reaching for his half empty wine glass. Bucky ignored the eyebrow he saw Becca pique at him.

The truth was, they hadn't really discussed what would happen. Whilst Bucky had suggested a fling back at the start of all this, and whilst Steve had tried to warn Bucky he was incapable of casual, Bucky hadn't expected to fall as hard and as fast as he had. It was getting harder and harder to deny that his feelings for Steve went far beyond anything that could be called ‘casual’.

It hit Bucky on Wednesday, when he and Steve found themselves wandering hand in hand through the food market on the mainland. Bucky didn’t know what it was that tipped him over the edge, something about the look on Steve’s face as he tentatively held a piece of ackee fruit up to his lips and looked over at Bucky for reassurance before taking the tiniest, most hesitant bite possible. Steve had been scared of trying it after he heard the seeds were poisonous and looked so proud of himself to eating that miniscule amount. Bucky hadn’t been able to hold back his laughter, torn between praising Steve for taking a bite and teasing him for being so scared of something that was more than just a local delicacy, but part of their national fucking dish. When his laughter faded and he smiled at Steve he knew; knew what he’d been trying to deny for days.

He was in love with Steve.

Bucky’s first reaction was to panic. He wasn’t meant to fall in love with the guy, but looking back Bucky realised he’d been falling in love with Steve since that very first night. He’d fallen for the way Stave had mapped out constellations from his scars. He’d fallen when Steve hadn’t made a big deal out of his panic attacks and instead had distracted him with dolphins or snorkelling. He’d fallen for Steve’s generous-heart and caring nature, when he admitted he didn’t want to cheat on Peggy even after she’d basically been cheating on him for the past two years. Perhaps it had even spanned back to seeing Steve standing on the prow of the ferry on their first crossing over with the wind in his hair and the sun on his face.

Bucky had never believed in love at first sight, but with hindsight, Bucky had definitely known _something_ then, like he had when Steve had approached them in the hotel lobby and Bucky had only desperately wish for Steve not to leave. Maybe it hadn’t been _love_ yet, just the feeling that he could definitely fall in love with Steve if only given the chance.

The panic quickly faded into relief at being able to put a name to the ache that had been gnawing away in his chest all week and he found the prospect of being in love with Steve didn’t scare him as much as it probably should have. But acceptance was one thing; knowing how to deal with those feelings was quiet another. Instead of facing up to them, Bucky pushed those feelings down as best he could; teasing Steve about his taste in food and weaving through the market to find the most outlandish items to try and convince Steve to buy. He distracted himself with clay pots and wooden carved masks and tried to convince himself that his feelings didn’t change anything; not yet.

=

Thursday had been blocked out as another day to relax, read through more of the books saved on his kindle and top up his tan, and a day spent lounging by the side of the pool, Bucky felt sun soaked and lethargic. But there was only so long he could stand to watch Steve sprawl around topless without wanting to get his hands on the miles of tantalising skin that had been bronzing in the sun all day. It had taken a lot of restraint on Bucky’s part to keep their PDA within the bounds of public decency, and by the time they stepped into the elevator after dinner in the bar, Bucky couldn’t keep his hands off Steve any longer. He crowded Steve up against the wall of the elevator kissing him fiercely and sliding his hands up under Steve’s shirt.

“Steady on.” Steve laughed.

“Don’t wanna.” Bucky rucked Steve’s shirt up over his stomach and slid his hands up to cup Steve’s pecs, mouthing at his neck all the while.

“Buck, I’m not going to last,” Steve huffed and gasped as Bucky ground against him in the elevator.

Bucky scoffed against Steve’s collar bone. “C’mon, Rogers. I know your stamina’s better than that.”

The days had disappeared faster than Bucky could have anticipated and there were still so many things he wanted to try with Steve. So many ways he wanted to wreck him with pleasure. But before he had a chance to really get started, the elevator doors dinged open and Steve took control. He dragged Bucky down the corridor and unlocked the door with a hasty swipe of the keycard, spinning Bucky into the room, pressing him up against the closed door and grinding against him in one fluid – and hot as fuck – move.

Bucky let out an audible gasp and dove in for a kiss that was all messy teeth and tongue in his haste to be close to Steve. They were both wearing far too many clothes and Bucky was desperate to kick out of all of his layers and push Steve back towards the bed. Steve had other ideas though. His hands snaked down between their bodies and made swift work of unfastening Bucky’s pants. He teased Bucky by slipping his fingers below the waistband of Bucky’s boxers and lightly tracing the taught skin of his lower abdomen, brushing his hands through the hair trailing down from Bucky’s belly button and skimming tantalisingly close to the base of his cock before sweeping across to trace the outline of Bucky’s Adonis belt. Lightning crackled under Bucky’s skin in the wake of Steve’s fingers and his nerves felt like they were on fire as pleasure pooled low in his gut.

“Fu-uh-uck, _Steve_.” Bucky’s breath hitched and Steve grinned smugly against Bucky’s mouth, kissing him passionately for a beat before his mouth was gone, and so was the pressure against Bucky’s chest. He had half a moment to protest the loss, before he realised Steve had dropped to his knees and, oh boy, wasn’t that a glorious sight? Bucky glanced down to catch Steve’s eyes, looking up at him from under his impossibly long lashes as a devilish smirk spread across his lips. How the fuck had Bucky _ever_ thought this man was straight?

Steve lowered the waistband of Bucky’s boxers to free his cock and swooped instantly to take it into his mouth. Bucky tried to watch, but the pleasure that coursed through him as Steve worked him over was so intense that he melted boneless against the door; head tipped back and jaw slack. His hands found their way into Steve’s hair, holding on more than anything. He certainly didn’t need to try and direct Steve, he was doing a mind-blowingly good job by himself. Steve had clearly been paying to every little thing Bucky loved, and every flick of his tongue, every press of his lips, even the soft scrape of his teeth was designed to make Bucky come undone.

Bucky barely had the wherewithal to warn Steve when pleasure built to a crescendo in the pit of his stomach. He didn’t want to come yet, he didn’t want the night to end here; he’d been planning things he wanted to do to Steve all day – but so, it seemed, had Steve. He ignored Bucky’s half-hearted pleas, hollowing his cheeks and licking _just so_, until Bucky couldn’t hold back the wave of orgasm any longer and he spilled into Steve’s mouth. He slumped back against the door, riding a high; feeling weightless and strung-out. His nerves thrummed with the aftershocks of pleasure and Bucky’s movements were uncoordinated and heavy handed as he tugged at Steve’s shirt to haul him to his feet and in for a kiss

“God. _Steve_.” Bucky fell against Steve’s mouth rather than kissing him and summoned a reserve of energy to blink his eyes open and stare at Steve. “That was something else.”

It wasn’t until Steve grinned that Bucky realised he was in trouble. “I’m not finished with you yet.”

Bucky wanted to know what could possibly follow a performance like that, but forming fully coherent sentences was beyond his capability just then. He must had tried to mumble something though because Steve laughed softly at him and scooped him up off his feet. Bucky’s limbs acted with a mind of their own, clinging lightly to Steve as he carried Bucky across the room and gently laid him out on the bed. Bucky sunk gratefully into the mattress and let his head loll amongst the pillows. He needed to sleep off his orgasm and then he might be able to make a start on the plans he had for Steve. Plans that involved and lot of Steve being naked and a lot of Bucky getting his own back for what had easily been the best blow job of his life. If only he could gather his thoughts and emerge from the post-coital bliss that clouded his mind.

He wordlessly plucked at Steve’s shirt to try and convey that he wanted Steve to take it off. Thankfully Steve seemed to know what Bucky wanted and quickly peeled himself out of his clothes until he was towering above the bed, a golden pillar of muscles that Bucky needed his hands and mouth all over otherwise he might just _die_. Judging from the amused quirk of Steve’s mouth, Bucky might just have said those words out loud. He didn’t have the energy to feel embarrassed though.

“You’re so lovely like this.” Steve whispered as he crawled up the bed and braced himself above Bucky. “I love making you fall apart.”

_I just love you_. The words were right on the tip of Bucky’s tongue, but he managed to swallow them back before he could say them and ruin everything; arching up to kiss Steve to keep his mouth safely occupied instead. Whatever Steve had done to him had opened the floodgates and Bucky couldn’t keep his feeling buried any longer. He was in love with Steve. Bucky sunk back into the pillows and let the full weight of that emotion flood thought him, splayed out and completely at Steve’s mercy; literally and metaphorically. He was so gone for this man and there was absolutely no use fighting it.

Steve gave Bucky another lingering kiss before gently peeling Bucky out of his shirt and shucking off his pants and boxers. Bucky decided not to resist. It was so rare that he got to completely let go, he’d never been with someone long enough to trust them with his pleasure like this, and not feel any pressure to reciprocate. Steve gently rolled Bucky onto his stomach and placed a pillow under his hips, canting his ass in the air and kissing a trail of delicate kisses up the back of Bucky’s thighs before artfully demonstrating what else he was capable of doing with his tongue. Pleasure sparked and Bucky clenched against the sensation but Steve was unfazed and clearly practised at this too. His tongue was tireless and soon Bucky was even more of an incoherent wreck; slumped against the pillows, stuffing his mouth full with handfuls of the sheets to stop himself from spewing out mindless mumblings of _“I love you, I love you, I love you.”_

Slight over sensation peppered with pleasure soon melted into broiled, heated_ want_ and only when Bucky began to plead and beg with Steve, did he finally give into to what Bucky needed; slicking himself up and pressing in with one long push. It was bliss, sheer, unadulterated bliss. Bucky lost all track of time, lost all sense of anything beyond the heat that unfurled into his belly with every controlled thrust from Steve. His whole world narrowed down to that point where they joined, and when Bucky came again it was with a burst of overwhelming ecstasy that turned his vision white. He gasped, and screamed, clawing at the bedsheets as the sensation rolled through him, pulling Steve over the ledge with him until they both fell utterly spent and sweat-soaked into the mattress.

When Bucky finally found his words all he could think to mutter was, “_Holy fuck.”_

Steve gave a happy sounding hum and rolled onto his back beside Bucky, flopping into the pillow and letting his legs fall open and his arms splay above his head. Bucky groped for him, clashing their mouths together in a messy, sloppy kiss that was graceless and uncoordinated and all the more intimate for that. 

They kissed until Bucky’s last dregs of energy were gone and he practically fell asleep against Steve’s mouth. Distantly he felt himself being gently manhandled back to his side of the bed. He felt the mattress lift as Steve stood up and heard a rustle in the bathroom followed by the sound of running water. A click, the swish of the door, and padded footsteps were followed by a dip in the bed and Bucky felt himself being gently sponged with a warm washcloth. He managed to murmur a thank you before he succumbed to the sleep that was waiting to embrace him like a warm hug.

Bucky woke a little while later, still feeling strung out, warm, and sated. Steve was dosing beside him, one arm folded behind his hand, the other playing gently with Bucky’s hair even in his sleep. Bucky let himself enjoy the sensation for a moment before the need to snuggle close became overwhelming and he shuffled even nearer to Steve so he could plaster himself against Steve’s chest and pillow his head on Steve’s glorious pecs.

Steve stirred at the movement and opened his arm to let Bucky close. “Hey.” He mumbled and pressed a kiss into Bucky’s hair before letting his fingers resume their absent carding.

“Where the _hell_ did you learn to do that?” Bucky asked now that he could form sentences again. He knew by now that Steve was not as inexperienced as Bucky had assumed he would be, given then he’d spent eleven of his fourteen adult years in a committed _heterosexual_ relationship. But that careful undoing of Bucky had to be the result of more than a _little_ experience.

Steve gave a proud hum. “I’m not completely inexperienced.” He repeated himself from earlier in the week.

“But…I thought…Peggy…?” Bucky wasn’t enlightened by Steve’s non-answer. 

Steve snorted. “I was 95lb and asthmatic before I met Peg, I wasn’t dead.”

Bucky supposed that was fair. He’d got up to all sorts back in high-school, and that was even in the back waters of Shelbyville Indiana; Brooklyn and the heady delights of nearby Manhattan must have had much more to offer by way of a gay scene.

“My lungs were a wreck when I was younger, though – I practically got out of breath climbing the stairs before I got put on the medical trial.” Steve carried on explaining, even though he really didn’t need to. “Couldn’t really…go for it like I wanted to. So, I had to pick up a few tricks.” He chuckled slightly.

Bucky gave a soft laugh. “Well then, I’m definitely grateful for your asthma.”

“Besides I really didn’t have much going for me in the looks department back then, either.” Steve added, sounding far too self-deprecating for Bucky’s liking. “Kinda felt like I had to make up for it in other ways, ya’know?” Bucky felt Steve shrug beneath him.

Despite the shaky ache in every single one of his limbs, Bucky pushed himself upright and turned on Steve. “Bullshit.”

“It’s true.” Steve tracked his eyes up to the ceiling and stared at what must have been a very captivating shadow. “Not sure you’d have liked me much, back then.”

Bucky’s stomach twisted and an ache flared over his heart. “I don’t believe that for a second.”

Steve shrugged again and kept his gaze firmly on the ceiling. “Doesn’t really matter now.”

“Steve.” Bucky said firmly. When Steve will wouldn’t look at him, Bucky moved to straddle Steve, hovering right above his face and cupping it gently between his hands. “It _does_ matter.” He insisted. “I don’t like you just because of your muscles or because you’re six-foot-whatever, okay?”

Steve spared a glance at Bucky and Bucky fixed him with the most loving and reassuring look he could muster.

“Your eyes. Your smile. Your heart.” He bent over so that their foreheads were touching. “I’m pretty sure they haven’t changed, and I’m pretty sure I’d lo–” the word was ripe and ready to spill from Bucky’s mouth but he caught it right at the last moment. “_like_ you, no matter what you looked like. Okay?”

“Okay.” Steve didn’t look convinced but he was at least smiling again. Bucky pressed a kiss against the corner of his mouth, then along his jaw and sat up to rake his hands down Steve’s chest.

“Now it’s my turn to wreck _you_.” Bucky grinned.

=

By the time they fell asleep a second time, Bucky felt like he’d done a ruck march in full gear and his muscles were aching with that well-earned burn of a job well done when Steve’s voice filtered through his dream to wake him up the next morning.

“Good morning, Buck.”

Steve’s voice cut through the deep fog Bucky had been sleeping in like a shaft of golden sunlight. His consciousness stirred, but the lure of sleep was heavy on Bucky’s mind, ready to drag him back under in an instant. It felt too early and he wasn’t ready to wake up yet. He tried to mumble as much to Steve but wasn’t sure if he actually managed to form words or not. He started to drift off again when he felt gentle fingertips brush across his forehead.

“I’m going for a run. I won’t be long.” Steve said.

Bucky hummed an affirmative, undecided about whether to bother waking up or to carry on sleeping. Then Steve pressed a warm, wet kiss against his forehead and Bucky couldn’t help but open his eyes. Sunlight instantly filled his vision and Bucky screwed his eyes together, narrowing his focus to Steve. From the pale, muted glow of the sun and the fact that he felt like he’d been awoken mid-dream, Bucky suspected it was _very _early.

“What time is it?”

“Just after six.” Steve smiled.

Bucky balked. “Your fucking crazy.” He muttered. Why would anyone voluntarily wake-up that early? He scrubbed gritty sleep from eyes and rolled onto his back, aching all over in a pleasant, fucked-out way when he tried to move. Memories surfaced to match each burn in his muscles and Bucky felt a sleepy smile stretch across his face. “God, I feel _wrecked_ this morning.” He grinned up at Steve.

“Yeah?”

“Mhmm.” Bucky hummed in a very self-satisfied way. He raked eyes across Steve and noticed that he was, indeed, dressed for a run; wearing a too-tight compression top and navy blue running shorts, with messy, tousled hair that indicated he hadn’t bothered showering yet. Bucky didn’t know how the hell he had the energy for a run after their exploits the night before; Bucky felt like he needed to sleep for a week.

“You’re really going for a run?” He asked.

Steve nodded, looking a little sheepish. “I need to clear my head.”

He seemed guarded about something, but seeing as Bucky was keeping a pretty big revelation to himself, he decided not to press; opting to try and make light of it instead by teasing, “Well don’t clear it too much, else there won’t be any brain function left.”

Steve laughed and planted a sloppy kiss on Bucky’s cheek in retaliation. “You’re welcome to come with me.”

Bucky shook his head and stretched his legs out under the covers before twisting on his side and curling back up into a ball. “No thanks. Not if you paid me a million dollars. I’m on holiday. I’m sleeping ‘til noon.”

“Alright.” Steve straightened up and gave him a bright smile. “I’ll bring you back some breakfast.”

“Thanks,” _I love you. _Bucky thought, before muttering “You’re the best.” instead.

He rolled onto his front and smashed his face into the pillow. Fuck. Now that he’d admitted it to himself, it was all he could think of. He needed to get a handle on his feelings and figure out what to do before this holiday came to a sudden halt on Sunday. In two days.

_Fuck._

Bucky bolted upright and stared at the door which had closed behind Steve. Two days, was that really all the time they had left? His heart began to beat wildly in his chest. He needed to figure out what to do, and figure it out fast.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Panic attack: the scuba mask triggers some bad memories of wearing oxygen masks for Bucky, but it doesn't turn into a full blown panic attack and Steve suggests snorkelling instead which solves the issue.
> 
> Sexual content: (I think it's still in the realms of mature rather than explicit, but let me know if you think I need to change the rating!) if that's not your thing, skip from "Thursday had been blocked out as another day to relax," to the next '='.


	32. Steve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for some sexual content as always I'm pretty sure it's still in the realms of 'mature' but let me know if I need to up the rating to explicit.

Steve kept up a steady pace as he ran along the headland, feeling the sun climb into the sky behind him and the morning air turn swiftly from warm, to unbearably hot. When his calves began to burn and his breath grew short, he staggered slowly to a halt and doubled over with his hands on his knees to catch his breath. Straightening up, he took a long gulp from his water bottle and cast his eyes around his surroundings. He’d followed the same curve of coastline they had sailed passed to reach the caves, and he found himself standing on a clifftop with the waves crashing below him. The horizon was empty, stretching on for miles and miles of nothing but perfect blue that blended almost imperceptibly from the sea to the sky. This island really was one of the most beautiful places he’d ever visited, and thanks to Bucky it really had been paradise. It was strange to think he’d planned so much of the week with Peggy in mind, yet Steve doubted he would have had as much fun even if things had gone ‘to plan’. 

Steve tipped his head back and revelled in the feeling of the sun on his face for a long moment before he sucked in a breath and braced himself for the jog back. 

He was a hot mess by the time he jogged back through the winding trail that by-passed the wedding beach and wove around to the back door of the hotel. He ducked into the lobby toilets to wash himself down with some damp handtowels; removing the worst of the sweat from his forehead and the back of his neck in an effort to make himself presentable before he nipped into the dining room to swipe some pastries and fruit from the breakfast buffet and take them up to Bucky for breakfast. He spotted Rob and Becca enjoying breakfast at a table by the window and gave them a wave. Rob grinned and waved back, but the look Becca gave him was inscrutable. 

Just as he’d suspected, Bucky had fallen back asleep and was snoring softly when Steve carefully juggled the stolen breakfast food in one hand and opened up the hotel door. He extracted a few saucers from the coffee station to plate up the food and turned the coffee machine on before he leant over the bed to give Bucky a big, sweaty hug to wake him up.

“Ugh, gross.” Bucky swatted him away and squirmed to hide his face before Steve could plaster him with anymore kisses. 

“I brought you breakfast. I’m gonna take a shower.” 

“Yeah, you need one.” Bucky kicked him, in an affectionate sort of way.

“So do you.” Steve laughed. Bucky’s hair was a tangled birds nest on top of his head and despite Steve’s best efforts to clean them both up during the night, the reek of sex still hung in the air. They definitely needed to hang the sign outside the door for housekeeping today. “You could join me.” Steve wagged his eyebrows at Bucky, but Bucky had already spotted the pastries, so his attention was rightfully focused elsewhere. 

“Yeah, because last time we shared a shower, we both ended up so clean.” He snorted. Then glanced between the pastries sitting on the desk and Steve who was still crowded over him. “Why’d you leave the food so far away?” Bucky asked with an innocent charm that Steve had stopped bothering to resist. He delivered the plate to Bucky with a soft shake of his head, before pouring out a coffee for Bucky as well, and then fetching himself another bottle of water from the minibar. 

“What’s on our agenda for the day?” he asked between mouthfuls of water. 

“I had this down as another lounge day. But I’m open to suggestions.” Bucky said around a mouthful of pain au chocolat, letting his legs sprawl across most of the bed. “Rob said the mini golf was actually fun, or we could try the tennis if you like? Fair warning,” Bucky paused to smirk, “I’ll beat you at both.”

“Will you now?” Steve grinned back. 

“Uh-huh.” Bucky beamed. “Got good aim.” 

“We’ll see about that.” Steve drained his water bottle and placed it on the side to refill for later. He stripped on his way to the bathroom, leaving his clothes balled neatly at the foot of the wardrobe and opted to leave the bathroom door open, in case Bucky changed his mind about joining him. “Save some food for me!” He remembered to shout before he switched on the water. 

It was difficult to hear over the sudden rush of the shower, but Steve was pretty sure what Bucky shouted back was “too late.” 

Steve couldn’t even bring himself to feel annoyed; he was too happy. 

=

The mini golf did turn out to be fun. Whoever had designed the course had taken inspiration from major landmarks all over the world so they found themselves putting between the legs of the Eiffel tower, sending trick shots over the domes of the Taj Mahal, ricocheting balls between Buckingham Palace and the Houses of Parliament, and trying to aim right down the centre of the Golden Gate Bridge whilst real water flowed beneath. Steve quickly worked out that Bucky’s boast hadn’t been an empty threat; he could read the angles like no one’s business and set up perfect shots every time (Steve made a mental note to never, ever try and play him at pool). Whilst Steve had steady hands and a good eye for lining up his shots, he often misjudged how hard to hit the ball and more often than not sent it spinning over the edges of the course to land in the water or roll down the ‘fairway’ of a completely different hole. It made Bucky crack up with laughter every time. 

They completed the circuit a few times, trying to work out what some of the more obscure landmarks were meant to be. But even giving Steve a generous two stroke handicap, per hole, Bucky still thrashed him.

“Told ya.” Bucky grinned, sinking his last shot with another graceful hole-in-one. 

“You did.” Steve conceded. 

They decided not to bother with tennis. With the midday sun glaring down it was too hot to think about anything more athletic than splashing around in the pool, or Bucky try and teach Steve the knack to floating. Steve tried his best, but as soon as he stopped paddling his arms, he sunk to the bottom every single time.

“Too many muscles,” Bucky just laughed at him, and prodded him in the chest. 

Steve didn’t buy that for a second. “You’ve got just as many muscles as me.” He laughed back, prodding Bucky in his abs. 

“Maybe I’m just magic.” Bucky kicked back starfish style on top of the water, staying afloat without any discernible effort. 

“Yeah, maybe you are.” 

The resort had filled up people in anticipation of another weekend of weddings and as Steve stared down over the lip of the infinity pool to survey the beach he saw most of the deck chairs were filled, and about a half a dozen people were playing keep away in the water. He thought back the other night when they’d cosied up together in the sand. It would have been too cold to spend all night under the stars then, but Steve had been sorely tempted by the idea. He’d been thinking they could better prepare with layers and blankets and try again that evening; but with that many people at the resort and filling the beach, they weren’t going to get the kind of privacy Steve wanted. 

“I was thinking,” he broached the topic to Bucky, who let his feet sink into the water and swam slowly towards Steve. 

“Always dangerous,” Bucky teased.

Steve ignored the jib and powered on before he lost his nerve. “We could hire a boat again, go back to that beach this afternoon.”

“What, this one too crowded for you?” Bucky laughed, sounding a little perplexed. Steve glanced down at the beach again. Whilst not as empty as it had been the day before – it could still hardly be called ‘crowded’, certainly not by his old Coney Island standards.

“It is for what I had in mind.” He whispered to Bucky.

“Okay. I’m game.”

“I was also thinking, it might be nice to…spend the night, you know, camped out.”

Bucky tilted his head and gave Steve one of his looks that Steve hadn’t yet managed to decipher. If anything, it looked a little dubious. Right, Bucky had been Ranger, Steve remembered. He’d probably spent many nights camped out under the stars, with probably quite a few unsavoury memories; it wouldn’t be a novelty for him. 

“I just thought it might be nice, I’ve never…” Steve hastened to explain himself, faltering a little and glancing back at Bucky for reassurance. He found Bucky smiling at him.

Bucky surged up to plant a kiss on Steve’s cheek. “I’d love to spend a night camped out with you. I was kind of wishing we’d thought to take blankets down with us the other night.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. But go on, you’ve never what?”

“I’ve never, uh, spent the night outdoors. Not the whole night.”

Bucky’s expression turned stricken. “Not ever? Like, not even camping?”

Steve shook his head.

“Not on summer camp?”

“I never went to summer camp.”

“Not passed in out a field after your high school graduation?”

Steve just laughed at what he guessed was an example from Bucky’s personal experience. 

“Never just chilled in your garden – or balcony, or rooftop, I guess – just because?” Bucky asked.

Steve shook his head.

“Fuck that.” Bucky gaped at Steve. “Yes. Okay. Yes. We’re definitely camping out tonight. We’ll need blankets and layers, and we’ll probably need to light a fire to stop us from freezing because this island gets far colder at night that I was expecting. But yes. Let’s do that.” He surged in for another kiss, this time twisting Steve’s face to catch his lips and Steve felt a pleasant thrum inside his chest. 

=

Steve liaised with the hotel concierge to hire a boat for 24 hours from that afternoon, whilst Bucky set about gathering everything they’d need with an efficient, military-style ease. Sometimes it was easy to overlook the fact that Bucky had once been a sergeant because he acted so unlike any of the military personnel Steve had brushed shoulders with in DC thanks to Peggy’s line of work. Even Sam kept a vague sort of Air-Force neatness to his appearance and routine, but Bucky normally seemed like the further thing from regulation anything. There was something about the way he competently packed up borrowed beach mats from the hotel, along with the spare blankets and pillows from inside the wardrobe and all of the snacks and drinks from the minibar; rolling it all into a tightly compact bundle that should absolutely have not fit inside his rucksack – certainly not with the spare change of clothes and extra socks and toothbrushes he’d already packed for both of them – before zipping it up with ease. 

Neither of them could be bothered with the hassle of cooking over an open fire (“It’s a pain, trust me.” Bucky had assured Steve) so they ate an early dinner in the bar, and were loading up the speed boat on the jetty as the sun slipped from overhead to eyelevel. They had about an hour left of sunlight before it would get too dark to navigate by, which was more than enough time for Steve to guide the speedboat through the choppy waves. The red boat had already been let for the day, so they were given the keys to a smaller blue speedboat with cream leather seats and an old wooden console. The bow was much smaller than the last one, but the stern was taken up by a sloping sun deck with a built-in ladder than could be lowered in water. Steve suddenly glad he’d hired the craft for a whole day; they could definitely make use of that sun deck in the morning. 

This time as they zipped through the wave, Bucky stood up by the console beside Steve, with his head tipped back and his hair ruffling in the wind. Steve had to concentrate on not just watching Bucky and actually pay on where they were going, but it was a difficult sight to tear his eyes away from. He found the cove again with ease, and pulled off the same manoeuvre as he had last time; with Bucky leaping out to help him drag the boat up above the tide line and make sure it wasn’t going to go anywhere without them. 

“Alright, let’s get set up.” Bucky dusted down his hands and hauled his rucksack from the boat, extracting the blanket rolls and leaving their clothes stowed on the bench whilst he worked. 

Steve hovered, helping where he could, but pretty much watching with admiration as Bucky set up a bed for them, laying the beach mats down first to make a warm base and then layering up some towels and blankets to sleep on, securing them with rocks in the corners.

“You do realise we’re going to be covered in sand by the morning?” Bucky asked, dropping the pillows onto the make-shift bed and throwing the last blanket over the top of everything. 

“It’ll be worth it.” Steve grinned back. 

“Now we need a fire. Go find some dry wood.” Bucky pecked Steve on the cheek and ushered him towards the trees that bounded the beach. 

Steve gathered up handfuls of twigs and some sturdier looking logs, not entirely sure what type of wood he was meant to be finding. It all felt dry enough, but Steve wasn’t exactly an expert, he’d never tried to build a fire out of anything that wasn’t shop bought pre-chopped wood in the fireplace at Peggy’s parent’s house. 

Bucky had set up a ring of rocks a safe distance away from the bed by the time Steve had collected a decent armful of firewood and he selected some choice pieces; stacking them in a mini tipi formation and stuffing it full of dried seaweed which he set alight with a zippo lighter they’d bought in the hotel boutique. It caught after a few attempts and some careful rearranging of the twigs, then Bucky blew on it and the fire suddenly sprung to life. He rocked back on his haunches and grinned up at Steve looking proud. 

“I’m impressed.” Steve said honestly, not to mention more than a little turned on. 

“As you should be.” Bucky grinned. “Pass me some of the bigger logs?” Steve complied and Buck gently laid them across and around the little fire, waiting to make sure they’d catch and weren’t suffocating it before he stood up and dusted off his hands on his thighs. “So,” he sidled up to Steve and traced a finger under the collar of Steve’s cotton shirt. Steve felt his heart rate pick-up in response. “What did you have in mind that we couldn’t do on a crowded beach?” he asked. 

Steve’s breath caught on a lump in his throat as he wondered if he dared to ask for what he really wanted. He’d already taken a leap by asking to sleepout. So far everything else they’d done on this holiday had been pre-planned; this evening was something just for them. Bucky’s thumb brushed across Steve’s collar bone as he looked up waiting for Steve to answer. Steve reminded himself that so far being open and honest with Bucky had brought him more happiness that he thought was possible. What was one more little thing? Besides, Bucky had already hinted he’d be open to it. 

He dipped his head until he could whisper directly into Bucky’s ear. “I want you to fuck me.” 

Bucky’s hand stilled and his gripped tightened on Steve’s collar. “Are you serious?” he sounded breathless. 

“Yep.” Steve followed the word with a kiss to the shell of Bucky’s ear before he pulled back to gauge Bucky’s reaction. His eyes were blown wide with lust but there was a slight frown etched into the shape of his brow. 

“On a beach? We’ll get sand…everywhere.”

“We’ll be careful.” Steve shrugged. 

Bucky gulped. “Have you…before…?” he asked hesitantly, which made Steve smile. Bucky clearly wanted this and his concern for Steve’s well-being was only making Steve want it more. 

“Yes. I want this, Buck. Please?”

“Fuck. I, erm, I guess you packed stuff for it?”

“Bottom of the rucksack.” Steve admitted with a sheepish smile. 

Bucky shook his head and gave Steve another of his undecipherable looks. “You’re mad.” He said and his mouth curled upwards into a smile.

“I’ve been told before.” Steve grinned back. He hooked his fingers through Bucky’s beltloops and pulled him close until their bodies were flush. He could tell Bucky was already half hard, just from thinking about it, and Steve’s pants were growing tighter by the second.

“You mean right now?”

“Yeah, while the sun sets.”

That made Bucky laugh. “God, Steve. You’re just a big old romantic sap, aren’t you?”

Steve smiled. “I never claimed to be anything else.”

Bucky kissed him gently and then let their foreheads fall together. “Alright. You’re going to be the death of me, I swear.” Bucky muttered. He gave Steve another kiss and then pulled away. Steve unhooked his fingers to let him go. “Get comfy, I’m just gonna –” he held up his soot stained fingers from starting the fire, “wash my hands.”

Steve kicked off his shoes and shimmied out of his pants before getting himself situated on the bedspread, finding it surprisingly comfortable. The sun was already low in the sky, casting a bright golden stripe across the crests of the waves. Steve settled into his back and folded his arms behind his head as he watched Bucky stoop to wash his hands in small waves that rolled onto the shore, and then fetch the rucksack from the boat. A few days ago Steve would have been mortified by the prospect of lying naked on a beach, now he basked in the sensation. 

Anticipation pooled low in Steve’s belly and his cock twitched at the sight of Bucky stepping out of his shorts and pulling his shirt off over his head. He stood for a moment, probably admiring the sight of Steve laid out for him, but Steve thought Bucky made a much better sight; silhouetted against the setting sun, with golden light curling around the curves of his biceps and his thighs. Steve filed away the mental image for later, alongside all of the other memories of Bucky he never wanted to forget. And then Bucky was moving with grace and fluidity, practically prowling towards Steve and dropping to his knees on the bottom of the bedspread with an elegantly controlled fall. If Steve hadn’t been hard already that definitely would have done it for him. 

“If you end up with an ass full of sand, I want it on record that I said this was a terrible idea.” Bucky deadpanned, carefully opening up the little black washbag Steve had snuck into the rucksack.

Steve tipped his head back and laughed. This was what he was going to miss most about Bucky, more than all of the soft affection and the great sex, it was the easy way they made each other laugh and the fond teasing that Steve liked best. “Just come over here and fuck me.” He said between laughs. He was still laughing when Bucky straddled him and leant down for a kiss. Then a slicked-up finger brushed against his entrance and Steve’s laughed turned into a gasp. 

Bucky’s fingers were long and talented, and although it had been a while since Steve had been fucked like this, he couldn’t remember it ever feeling this good. Steve forced himself to keep his eyes open throughout, watching the sky turn a luscious orange and the clouds glowing pink behind Bucky’s toned shoulders and as hunched over Steve to open him up, brushing over his sweet spot again and again. The sky had turned purple by the time Bucky deemed Steve sufficiently prepped, and began to slide home inch by tantalising inch. The blunt pressure was overwhelming and unfamiliar after so long. Steve had to remember to relax and let go. 

“Fuck. Steve,” Bucky moaned above him. His hands groped along Steve’s arms until he found Steve’s hands and threaded their fingers together. 

“That feels so good, Buck.” Steve managed to find his words. He gripped Bucky’s hands and drew his arms up over his head, taking Bucky’s hands with him pulling Bucky forwards as his hips stuttered as he finally slid home.

“Fuck.” Steve wasn’t sure which of them said it, maybe they both had. Bucky panted above him, stomach contracting with each breath as they both adjusted to the sensation. Steve pressed kisses against the corner of Bucky’s open mouth until Bucky came back to himself and began kissing him back. He also started moving and – Christ almighty – Steve had completely forgotten how good it felt to be on this side of things. 

The sun set behind Bucky and the sky began to turn dark, but Steve was pretty sure they could have been in the middle of a meteor shower and he wouldn’t have noticed. Each snap of Bucky’s hips sent electricity humming through Steve’s nerves and whilst he knew he’d never be able to come from this alone, it filled him with a kind of full body pleasure the likes of which he’d never felt before. 

Bucky came first, with a series of stuttered thrusts and a cry of surprise. He fell against Steve’s chest, breathing heavily and immediately felt between them to wrap his dexterous hand around Steve’s cock. The pressure and warmth were overwhelming and it only took a few strokes for Steve to arche beneath Bucky, spilling across his hand. Steve felt Bucky wipe his hand off on his own stomach and then fell heavily against Steve, completely strung out, softening cock still buried inside Steve. 

They shared a few minutes of silent, intimate, post-coital bliss before the sticky mess between them began to dry and harden unpleasantly. 

“We should probably get cleaned up.” Bucky muttered.

“Probably.” Steve carded a hand through Bucky’s hair and leant up to press a kiss against his head.

“Love it when you do that.” Bucky mumbled and then sighed. “I don’t want to move.”

“Then don’t.”

“We’re gross.” Bucky complained. 

“Then we’ll be gross for another minute.” Steve didn’t particularly want to move either; moving would mean breaking the spell. Right then, with Bucky cradled in his arms and Bucky’s cock still nestled inside him, he felt warm, and loved and content. But with the sun set a chill began to draw over them and Steve didn’t want to make a mess of their blankets. Bucky eventually pulled out with another stilted gasp and rolled off Steve, falling onto his back; boneless and clearly incapable of moving. Steve chuckled fondly at him and stood to carefully clean them both up. 

He fetched their warm clothes from the boat along with the snacks and mini bar drinks, and helped a sleepy Bucky into clean boxers, a pair of sweatpants, and two pairs of socks. It was utterly adorable how soft and snuggly Bucky turned after sex. If he was tactile and affectionate before, he practically turned into a human koala bear after a good orgasm. Safely bundled into warm clothes and wrapped in blankets, they settled back onto the bed to doze in each other’s arms. 

“I told you we wouldn’t get sand everywhere.” Steve said smugly as Bucky snuggled close against him. 

Bucky just snorted against his shoulder. “Just you wait. You’re riding an endorphin high right now.” His words sounded a little sleepy and slurred. “You won’t find the sand ‘til the morning.”

“Are you speaking from experience?”

“Maybe.” was all Bucky said before the pattern of his breathing shifted as Steve knew he’d fallen asleep. 

Steve let his head fall back against the pillows and stared up at the vast expanse of sky that stretched out overhead. It was cloudier than it had been when they’d stargazed before, but it was almost hypnotic to watch the dark shapes track across the sky, hiding and revealing different patches of stars as the clouds shifted and moved. The fire crackled gently beside them and the waves whooshed somewhere in the dark. The trees creaked and rustled in a gentle breeze, and every so often a birdcall would disturb the otherwise peaceful night air. It was truly, utterly paradise, and with Bucky sleeping as a warm weight on his chest, Steve had never felt happier. 

As peaceful as it was, Steve couldn't sleep. Not until he had a plan for how to say goodbye. Their departure was looming and Steve knew he was going to miss Bucky something fierce once he was forced to return to the real world. The last two weeks had felt like an idyllic dream, one Steve was loath to wake from, but he’d always known it had to come to an end. What scared Steve was the weight of his feelings for Bucky. Steve had always known he wouldn't be able to do a casual fling properly, he’d had always fallen a little bit in love with everyone he'd kissed; even the ones he'd fooled around with high-school were still etched into his heart - and they hadn't even really liked each other that way. Back then, it’d been more of a mutual exploration of their sexuality, platonic sex, if that was such a thing. But Steve still carried a fondness for Ashley and Rachel, the girls from his art class, and Arnie and Gabe, from history and French, who'd let him kiss them, and fool around when his ma was working double shifts at the hospital and they were supposed to be studying. 

But this, with Bucky, this was completely different. No matter what they'd agreed, this had been more than a holiday hook-up. They'd spent the last two weeks living with each other, sharing more intimate moments than you would in months of normal dating. This was… going to hurt when it all came to an end, and Steve didn't know the best way to approach that. Would they stay in touch, or would that just make everything harder? If Steve offered a standing invitation for Bucky to look him up if he was ever in the same city…would Steve just find himself waiting for the next visit and not getting on with his life? God, Steve always been dumb when it came to relationships and this temporary arrangement was completely foreign to him. His only hope was that Bucky would have some guidance; he seemed more experienced with casual, hopefully he'd be more adept at letting go. 

Figuring that Bucky was asleep, Steve planted a soft kiss in Bucky's hair and stroked a delicate finger along the smooth dips and swells of his bicep that was visible even through the fleecy material of his hoodie. 

"I'm going to miss you." Steve confessed. “I’m going to miss you so much.” 

Bucky stirred slightly and snuggled closer, his leg hitched up so it was fully trapping Steve's hips, clearly not as completely asleep as Steve had suspected. “I'm going to miss you too.” He murmured back. “I love you.” 

His words were so soft that Steve almost didn't notice what Bucky had said, but then he felt Bucky tense against him and knew he hadn't misheard or imagined. 

“You love me?” Steve whispered into the night. 

Bucky huddled tighter against Steve for a moment and burrowed his face against Steve's chest like he was trying to hide. Steve would have found it adorable if he wasn’t currently trying to remember how to breathe or fighting off waves of panic surged through him. “You…love…me?” He gasped out between shallow breaths. 

That made Bucky sit up and haul Steve up so he was sitting too. Bucky began to rub deep circles between Steve's shoulder blades helping him to breathe. 

“Sorry.” Bucky muttered. “That wasn't how I planned to tell you.”

When Steve managed to looked up and refocus his eyes through the gloom he saw that Bucky looked wide-eyed and scared; more vulnerable that Steve had ever seen him before. 

“Did you?” Steve asked.

“What?”

“Plan to tell me?” Steve decided to focus on that rather than the heart-stopping, panic-inducing prospect that Bucky was in love with him. 

“I was…” Bucky faltered and shrugged. “Maybe? I hadn't decided. I'm sorry.” Bucky said again, his hand still brushing soothing circles into Steve’s back, still helping Steve’s lungs draw breath. “I know this wasn't the plan.”

Steve sucked in a ragged breath and let it out in a long shuddering exhale.

“Do you need your meds?” Bucky asked in small voice. 

Steve shook his head, “No.” This wasn't asthma this was all anxiety. He forced himself to calm down and gripped Bucky's free arm as he stared into Bucky's face, looking for any sign that Bucky was joking or being insincere. But Steve couldn't find any. God. This wasn't supposed to happen. Breaking his own heart was one thing, but Steve had never, ever, meant to hurt Bucky. What the fuck was he supposed to do now? Bucky was meant to be the one who could handle causal. Bucky was meant to able to walk away from this unscathed. 

“This wasn’t supposed to happen.” Steve whispered. 

“I know.” Bucky looked a little distraught and Steve’s heart ached at the sight. “I'm sorry and I don't,” Bucky stuttered, “I'm not, this doesn't change anything. I have no expectations.” He tried to assure Steve. He twisted up onto his knees and stared at Steve with an expression that almost looked pleading, but Steve couldn't miss the hopeful glint in Bucky's eyes. “I know we agreed it was just for this week and long distance never works but..?”

Steve’s heart cracked right down the middle. He reached out to cup Bucky's jaw and swiped a thumb across Bucky’s cheek. This wasn't how it was supposed to go. Steve had been counting on Bucky to make this easier, not harder. Of course, Steve realised with a swooping jolt of guilt, it wasn't fair to put this all on him. He'd done nothing wrong, he'd been perfect. It was just poor timing, poor circumstances. A cruel act of the universe to bring them together for such a short space of time. 

“I can't.” Steve whispered and Bucky's face fell. The glimmer of hope was shuttered behind a look of pure hurt. “Oh, Buck. I'm sorry. I can't.” 

“DC’s not that far from Indiana, I could visit?” Bucky sounded timid, almost scared. 

It hurt Steve to say no but he knew now that dragging this out any longer would only wreck both of them even more. “I can't be in a relationship right now. I just can't, I'm sorry. Bucky I'm so sorry.”

Bucky averted his eyes but Steve couldn't let go of his jaw.

“I've been in a relationship for practically my entire adult life.” Steve explained, it was the least he could do. It was what he’d tried to tell Bucky the last time they’d stood on this beach but obviously he hadn’t been clear enough. Somehow, he’d still been leading Bucky on without realising it. “I don't know who I am without Peggy. Or without you. I need to figure that out. I need to be on my own for a little while. I can’t…” He broke off to suck in a deep breath and tried to tell himself not to cry. But a lump was forming in his throat and his eyes were stinging painfully with the threat of tears. “I wish it were different.” With that came a sob. “I wish…” I wish I could let myself love you back. Steve stopped trying to hold back his tears and Bucky leant towards to pull him into a hug. 

“It's okay. I understand.” Somehow Bucky’s magnanimity made it worse.

“It's not okay!” Steve cried. “It's so fucking far from okay. I didn't want to hurt you, god, we promised no one would get hurt.” 

“I know we did.” Bucky voice was barely more than a whisper.

Steve wrapped his arms around Bucky with enough force to crush him if he wasn’t careful, he just needed to be close needed to hold him whilst he was able to. “I'm sorry.” 

“I'm sorry too.”

“You deserve so much better than me, Buck.” 

Bucky didn't answer. He turned his face so his cheek was buried against Steve's shoulder but from the silent shaking of his shoulders Steve realised he'd begun to cry as well.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry!!!! <333 I feel really mean posting this on what is pretty much the annviersay of Endgame - but at least this story will have a happy ending! I'm writing the next chapters as fast as I can and will hopefully be in a position to post them more frequently than once a week after the actual goodbye is said. We still have Bucky's POV of this chapter and a whole 24 hours left after this before they part ways.


	33. Bucky

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am continually amazed by the response to this fic! Thank you all so much for your amazing comments! I'm sorry this is another sad chpater, but I'm still promising a happy ending 💙💙💙 We'll just have to suffer along with these boys a little more before we get there. My new estimate is that there's probably going to be 40 chapters in total? Thanks for sticking it with it so far!

Bucky was never normally rendered so useless after sex. He didn’t know what it was about Steve that pulled orgasms so thoroughly from him that Bucky was left a boneless pile of mush that needed to sleep and snuggle before normal brain function could return. He struggled into sweats and a hoodie with Steve’s help and pulled two pairs of socks onto his feet before burrowing under the blanket and curling against Steve’s side; pleased that Steve had been listening to his instructions on the boat ride over.

“Even though we’re in the tropics, it’s gonna get cold and we don’t have proper sleeping bags,” Bucky had warned. “So, we need to make sure we don’t go to sleep cold. Layer up before we go to bed. And make sure anything you care about – phone, wallet, whatever – is stowed in the lock box in the boat. Even if it doesn’t rain, the spray from the sea’s gonna kick up a humidity that’ll make everything wet.”

Steve had just given him a lopsided grin and a very poor attempt at a salute, “Yes, sergeant.” for which Bucky had lightly punched him in the arm.

Despite teasing him for it though, Steve had obviously taken Bucky’s instructions to heart, which was a relief because Bucky was good for nothing more than dozing against the solid wall of Steve’s chest and letting the repetitive crash of the waves lull him to sleep.

Bucky drifted in and out of consciousness for a bit, floating in the liminal space between asleep and awake where everything felt both dreamlike and hyper real. Steve’s hand tangled in Bucky’s hair and he brushed a kiss against Bucky’s temple which sent a warm thrill running through him.

“I’m going to miss you.” Steve chased the kiss with a whisper. “I’m going to miss you so much.”

Bucky clawed closer to Steve, feeling relieved to hear Steve say it. “I’m going to miss you too.” He returned, and then, because he was floating in a dreamlike trance and it felt like the most natural thing in the world, he followed it up with, “I love you.”

It took a long, drawn out second for Bucky’s brain to catch up with his mouth and for him to realise what he’d said. Had he said it? – Bucky tensed, waiting for a reaction from Steve – or had he simply thought it? Those three words which had been running on and endless loop around Bucky’s mind all the day. Those three words he’d been longing to say and had been scared to admit.

Then, with a hitched whisper, Steve asked, “You love me?”

Apprehension bloomed in Bucky’s chest and he burrowed closer to Steve, for comfort or to hide his face, Bucky wasn’t sure. He waited with baited breath for Steve’s reaction, praying it would be positive. He didn’t expect Steve to say it back, Bucky wouldn’t let himself hope for that. He just hoped Steve wasn’t scared or repulsed.

“You…_love_…me?” Steve gasped out, sounding breathless.

Bucky wasn’t sure where hyperventilating panic fell on the spectrum, but it surely wasn’t good. Bucky scrambled to sit up and hauled Steve upright too, pushing down his own panic to rub deep circles on Steve’s back, encouraging him to breathe.

“Sorry. That wasn’t how I planned to tell you.” Bucky followed the motion Becca rubbed into his back when he was having a panic attack.

“Did you?” Steve glanced up between shallow, gulping breaths. Bucky hoped this wasn’t an asthma attack, he’d never seen Steve use an inhaler, he didn’t know what Steve did to alleviate his symptoms.

“What?”

“Plan to tell me?”

Bucky frowned, wondering why that mattered and floundering for a response. “I was…maybe? I hadn’t decided. I’m sorry.” He opted to say honestly. “I know this wasn’t the plan.” He was never meant to fall in love with Steve. But when was the last time anything in Bucky’s life had ever gone to plan? Bucky thought, a little bitterly. Steve was still struggling to breathe and Bucky was starting to panic over that. “Do you need your meds?”

Steve gasped out a negative and sat up straighter, making a more conscious effort to control his breathing. Bucky matched his pace, setting a regular pattern for Steve to match whether he noticed it or not. Breathing in for four and out for four until Steve’s chest slowly stopped heaving and his shoulders stopped shaking. When he stopped fighting for breath, Steve gripped Bucky’s arm and stared at his face with a searching look that made Bucky feel more naked then he had the first time he’d stripped in front of Steve.

“This wasn’t supposed to happen.” Steve whispered. Between the firelight and the starlight, it was difficult to get an accurate read on Steve’s expression, but Bucky thought he looked a little horrified. Fuck, this really wasn’t supposed to happen. Bucky should never have said anything. They should have gone their separate ways and Bucky should have left Steve in blissful ignorance. He would have missed Bucky sure, but he would have gotten over it. He certainly shouldn’t have said it this evening, when they’d both been basked in the afterglow of glorious sex; when Bucky had been hoping for his own chance of getting fucked under the stars now that Steve had gotten over his fear of outdoor sex in the most enthusiastic and exhilarating way possible. 

“I know.” Bucky apologised. “I’m sorry and I don’t…I’m not…” he rushed to assure Steve that this didn’t really change anything. It was his own problem to deal with. “This doesn’t change anything. I have no expectations.” He knelt up and looked imploringly at Steve, and found him looking dazed and confused. For a minute hope swelled in Bucky’s chest and he dared to wonder if he’d been reading Steve’s trepidation all wrong. “I know we agreed it was just for this week and long distance never works but…?” What if Steve was horrified because he loved Bucky too and wanted to give it a shot, what if…?

The look that dawned on Steve’s face the moment Bucky had spoken cut that hope off at the knees. Steve’s brow pinched in sorrow and when he reached to cup Bucky’s jaw, and stroke his cheek it was exactly the same move he’d made last time he’d turned Bucky down. Bucky wasn’t even sure Steve realised he was doing it.

“I can’t.” Steve whispered.

Bucky was expecting it, but the blow still hurt when it fell.

“Oh, Buck. I’m sorry I can’t.”

A brief moment of rage and hurt flared through Bucky; not anger at Steve, but anger at the universe and how goddam unfair this all was. “DC’s not that far from Indiana,” Bucky dared to try. “I could visit?”

Steve shook his head and the dim light reflected in his glassy eyes that were welling up with tears. “I can’t be in a relationship right now. I just can’t, I’m sorry. Bucky I’m so sorry.”

It was what he’d told Bucky at the start and what Bucky should have been bracing himself for. He’d known Steve didn’t want a relationship, he’d known what he was letting himself in for with every moment that he’d let himself get closer and fall more in love with Steve. He’d known all of that, so why did it hurt so much? It felt like an iron band was pulling tight around his heart and the hurt on Steve’s face wasn’t helping matters. Bucky dropped his gaze and tried to remember how to breath without feeling like he was going to fall apart.

“I’ve been in a relationship for practically my entire adult life. I don’t know who I am without Peggy. Or without you.” Steve continued in hushed tones. Bucky wanted to sob. “I need to figure that out. I need to be on my own for a little while I can’t…” Steve broke off and Bucky heard him take a pained breath. When he spoke next his voice sound fragile and hurt. “I wish it were different.” He sobbed. “I wish…” Bucky never heard what he wished because Steve broken down into uncontrollable sobs. Bucky leant in to hug him and suddenly all concern for his own feelings vanished. It hurt too much to see Steve distressed like this.

“It’s okay. I understand.” Bucky tried to soothe him. Apparently, it was the wrong thing to say.

“It’s not okay! It’s so fucking far from okay!” Steve cried out, voicing the anger that simmered in Bucky’s chest. “I didn’t want to hurt you, god, we promised no one would get hurt.”

“I know we did.” Bucky was on the verge of tears himself and when Steve pulled him in for a bone crushing hug it all proved too much.

“I’m sorry.” Steve whispered into Bucky’s hair.

“I’m sorry too.” Bucky said into Steve’s shoulder.

For a moment they just clung to each other. “You deserve so much better than me, Buck.” Steve said and Bucky broke down.

He turned his face so his cheek was buried against Steve’s shoulder and let go of the tears that were poised to spill over. They crashed through him like a summer storm, and bowled him over so completely that all he could do was cling to Steve and sob; letting out all of his anger, his fear, and his heartache in tears that soaked into the collar of Steve’s sweater and left Bucky’s head ringing.

“I don’t want you to go.” Bucky sobbed. “Why can’t we just stay here forever?”

“Take the boat and run,” Steve added, his voice hoarse from crying. “Go find our own island. Live wild.”

Bucky knew neither of them were being serious, but it was better than crying over the imminent goodbye. “I know how to hunt.” Bucky pitched it. “And forage.” He’d forgotten most of what he’d learned in the survival courses he’d undergone with the Rangers, but some of it must have been retained in the back of his mind somewhere.

“We could build a treehouse.” Steve kept the fantasy going. “Like Swiss Family Robinson.”

“God, I used to love that film.” Bucky mumbled. “Me and Becca pestered our Dad every summer to build us a tree house in the back yard. He built us a play shed instead which just wasn’t the same.” He sighed, feeling the need to cry ebb away as quickly as it had come.

“I wish things were different, Bucky. I really do.”

“Yeah, me too.” Bucky pulled free from the hug and sat back on his knees to stare up at Steve. He looked as wrecked from crying as Bucky felt; red nosed, breath hitching with the echoes of tears, his eyes raw and puffy. Bucky screwed his nose up into a sniff and used the hem of his hoodie to dry his eyes. “Can we,” Bucky hesitated and shook his hand back through his sleeve before he reached out to find Steve’s hand. “Can we just ignore our goodbye for a little while longer? I’d like to pretend…for this evening. That it’ll all be okay.”

“Of course.” Steve readily agreed. “Come here.” He coaxed Bucky up for a kiss and that felt a little too desperate and a little too salty with tears for pretending that everything was going to be fine, but Bucky couldn’t blame him. Bucky only pulled away when the headache from his crying-hangover became too much to bear. “I need a drink. Please tell me we brought snacks and shit?” He asked, sniffing back the last few remnants of his tears.

“Yeah, they’re in the rucksack.” Steve untangled himself to fetch them and Bucky scooted over to tend to the fire, building it back up from where it burned low and neglected. He coaxed it back to life, and sent sparks dancing up into the night when he threw a heavy log into the mix. The flames licked at the wood, shifting and dancing with a transfixing fluidity. 

“Do you want water, or something stronger?” Steve settled down beside Bucky and offered an array of little bottles.

“Water, for now.” Bucky replied, still feeling a little raw for anything else.

“I think I might make a start on the scotch.” Steve muttered as he handed Bucky one of the bottles of water they’d taken from the apparently endlessly restocked minibar.

“Go for it.” Bucky cracked the lid and took a long refreshing sip of water; it helped alleviate the ache in his head, sadly there was nothing that could be done about the ache in his chest.

“Sweet or savoury?” Steve offered the bags of snacks out towards Bucky.

“Sweet, obviously.” Bucky reached for the bag of M&Ms.

“I thought so.” Steve laughed. He opened up a packet of salted peanuts for himself and stretched his long legs out in the sand before them, keeping them safely away from the fire. Silence settled over them as they listened to the fire crackle and pop. “What time’s your flight on Sunday?” Steve asked in a low voice, with his eyes fixed on the pillar of sparks drifting upwards into the sky.

It was the question Bucky had been staunchly avoiding asking all week. “Early. Like 11, I think? When’s yours?”

“4pm.”

Bucky just nodded. Maybe it was better that they’d ben leaving separately; they’d get all of the goodbyes out of the way at the hotel and Bucky wouldn’t be tempted to change his ticket for one to DC.

The fire burned bright and warm, warding off the chill from the night which gathered around them. Eventually Bucky started sharing sips from the bottle of scotch. It burned his throat like the smoke from the fire and Bucky wasn’t overly enamoured with the taste, but it put him back in that sleepy, cloudy state of mind he’d been enjoying before the accidental confession of love that went and derailed their whole evening.

“Sorry I messed everything up.” He whispered to Steve.

“Oh, no, Bucky. You didn’t mess anything up.”

Bucky handed the bottle back to Steve and then curled against him, settling his head in Steve’s lap. Steve immediately began to run his fingers through Bucky’s hair and Bucky almost wanted to cry again at how much he was going to miss this.

Bucky felt himself drifting back to sleep, felt the words begin to bud on his tongue again. There was no point holding back this time; Steve already knew and Bucky wanted him to know it was true. No matter what happened, no matter what came next, it would always be true.

“I love you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙 (sorry!)


	34. Steve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all of your comments! 💙💙💙

Steve had watched the sun rise many times before; after all-nighters to finish essays and projects; waking early to make his ma breakfast on her birthday or Mother’s Day before her early shifts; or going for an early run before work to clear his head. But he’d never slept outside and been woken by the very first traces of sunlight before. The sky began to brighten around four am, changing from a dusky blue to bright pale cornflower imperceptibly fast. The shift in light woke Steve and he blinked up at the expanse of sky above him. He’d fallen asleep where he’d been sat, twisted to face the fire that had burnt down to a crumbling pile of ash that was safely bounded by the ring of stones. Steve’s legs were sprawled akimbo in the sand and his head was barely resting on the pillow he’d grabbed and stuffed behind him when he’d begun to feel sleepy. Bucky was lying perpendicular to him, with his head on Steve’s thighs and his legs curled up beneath him. Steve noticed, with a fond rush of affection, that Bucky’s hands were bunched up in the sleeves of his hoodie and even his toes were scrunched up.

Trying ever so hard not to disturb Bucky, Steve rearranged the pillow beneath his head and lay back to watch the sky brighten and listen to the birds. The sea whooshed softly as it ran up the sand and retreated with repetitive, but unpredictable, motions and for a moment, just a moment, everything felt perfect. So long as Steve pushed down the memories of their fraught conversation the night before, and ignored that fact that today would be their last day. But, as ever, trying hard not to think about something only meant that was the only thing Steve was able to focus on. He kept spiralling back through their conversation; stuck on the awful memory of Bucky sobbing into his shoulder when Steve shot down his hope of trying a long-distance relationship.

It was the right thing to do, though. It had to be. A clean goodbye now would hurt like hell, but wasn’t that better than dragging things out for months? Slowly getting annoyed by the distance between them until that anger turned into bitter resentment and they grew to hate each other? Plus, Steve reasoned with himself, his schedule was going to be so demanding in the next few months that he wouldn’t have time for a relationship, even if we wanted to try and start one. Between moving out of Peggy’s apartment and trying to open up an office in New York, he was already going to be rushed off his feet; juggling a fledgling relationship on top of that would never work. Bucky deserved someone’s full attention, not something squeezed into an already hectic schedule.

That wasn’t even considering that real life was nothing like a holiday. Steve was never normally this relaxed or carefree. He would never normally have time to lie in and enjoy way Bucky dozed on top of him; or spend all day in idle conversation because they had no other demands on their time. Real world Steve got so stressed at work that he forgot to pick-up groceries on the way home and resorted to eating take-out seven times a week when Peggy was out of the country. Real world Steve got annoyed when dirty plates were left in the sink rather being stacked in the dishwasher, and had strong opinions on the proper way to fold and hang laundry. Real world Steve was neurotic, overly anxious – and Steve didn’t think Bucky would like that side of him. In fact, he was sure of it. Even Peggy, who’d spent eleven years trying to make things work had given up on him in the end. Eventually Bucky would realise the same thing she had; that Steve just wasn’t worth the effort. No. It was better to end it all now and not tarnish their memories of what had been a wonderful two weeks. No matter what happened in their futures they could also look back at this little slice of paradise. It was better this way…

If Steve kept telling himself that was true, he’d eventually be able to believe it.

Steve tipped his head back to let the entire dome of the sky fill his vision, and tracked the motion of a sea bird slowly circling on draughts of air. The sky continued to brighten with a beautiful golden glow that refracted through the clouds, until eventually the sun began to rise over the tree tops behind them. While Bucky continued to demonstrate his admirable ability to sleep through anything, Steve’s bladder began to ache with an uncomfortable fullness and he was getting a crick in his back from lying too long without moving. Very delicately, determined to let Bucky sleep a little longer, Steve folded a pillow in half and slid it beneath Bucky’s head so he could extract his leg and wobble his way to the treeline to relieve himself. His leg was a little numb from sleep and the pins and needles only kicked in after a few paces. Steve very nearly face planted in the sand when he tried to step on a foot that felt like it was filled with angry bees, and was immensely grateful that Bucky wasn’t awake to witness it.

Bucky slept on as Steve changed into a pair of shorts and started clearing up the mess they’d made of the beach; moving the empty mini-bar bottles and snack wrappers into the bin on the boat, and shaking the sand out of the blankets that they were no longer using. He rubbed a liberal amount on sunscreen on his face and chest, and when Bucky’s patch of beach shifted from shade to sunlight he began to worry about Bucky burning. As much as Steve wanted to let Bucky sleep in – and as much as he was dreading their conversation when Bucky awoke – Steve couldn’t just let him lie there and overheat.

“Hey, Bucky. Morning.” Steve reached out to give Bucky a gentle shake on the shoulder.

“Too early.” Bucky grumbled. He curled in on himself even more and brought his hands up to clutch at the pillow under his head.

“Well, then, you gotta at least move into the shade.” Steve fussed.

Bucky blinked open an eye, looking up at Steve like he was crazy and Steve watched the confusion of Bucky’s face melt into surprise as he remembered he’d been sleeping on the beach. It was adorable, and tugged painfully on Steve’s heartstrings.

“S’not fair.” Bucky muttered. He rolled onto his back and stretched his legs out, wiggling his toes inside his socks as he dragged a hand across his face.

“What’s not fair?”

“You. Looking like that.” Bucky gestured in the vague direction of Steve’s bare chest. “And standing so far away. Where’s my morning kiss?”

“I didn’t know if I was still allowed to kiss you after…” After Steve had broken his heart and crushed his dreams?

Bucky lowered his hand and stared up at Steve, squinting against the brightness of the sunshine. “Dumbass.” He sat up and fixed Steve with an exasperated look. “If today’s our last day then I want you to kiss me a _lot_, okay?”

Steve nearly tripped over his own feet in his haste to kneel by Bucky’s side. Bucky immediately wrapped a hand around Steve’s neck to pull him in for a kiss, but something held Steve back. He lingered, lightly resisting Bucky’s tug, and swallowed. “Won’t this make things harder?”

“Steve.” Bucky was suddenly stern. “Saying…goodbye,” his breath hitched over the word, “is already going to be really fucking hard, okay? I want to make the most of kissing you while I have the chance. _Please_.”

“Yeah, okay, of course.” Steve stopped resisting and swooped in to kiss Bucky. By then neither of them cared about morning breath, and they’d built up an easy familiarity with how they each liked to be kissed that Steve could have happily spent all day doing nothing more than making-out out with Bucky on the beach. It was so much more than Steve was expecting from today; he’d assumed Bucky would have been through with him and would have demanded an early ride back to the hotel. But then again, Bucky was always surprising Steve in the best way possible; consistently warm hearted, kind, generous, and just infinitely more than Steve ever deserved.

It was Steve’s stomach that eventually put an end to things by rumbling loudly and making Bucky snort against Steve’s mouth.

“Someone’s hungry.” Bucky pulled back to laugh and then patted Steve’s still growling stomach. “Did we remember to bring anything for breakfast?”

“Um.” Steve glanced at the rucksack mentally shifting through the snacks he’d packed away. “No.”

“Yeah, didn’t think we had. There’s some cookies left though, right?” Bucky was already moving towards the bag as he spoke. He fished out the packet of cookies with a triumphant smile.

“You can’t eat cookies for breakfast.” Steve argued.

“Sure you can. These ones even have raisins in.” Bucky waved the packet at Steve’s face. “Practically a healthy meal.” He brought the cookies and another bottle of water back to the blanket and settled cross-legged beside Steve. The blankets were definitely covered in gritty sand by now but as Steve settled onto them he found he didn’t care.

“What about any of this fruit growing around us? I thought you knew how to forage?” Steve reluctantly took a cookie and tried not to spill crumbs everywhere as he bit into it.

Bucky glanced at the trees behind them and seemed to consider them for a long moment before he shrugged. “Can’t remember. Probably best not to chance it.”

“I don’t think we’d last very long living in the wild.” Steve chuckled remembering their half-joked plan from last night.

“Not unless we happened to be living wild next to a fully stocked grocery store and starbucks.” Bucky agreed. Then groaned. “Fuck, we didn’t bring any coffee with us either, did we?”

“There’s coke?” Steve suggested, though he knew it wasn’t the same.

“It’s not the same.” Bucky sighed. “I’ll warn you now, I’ll be a grumpy mess by eleven if I’ve been awake that long without coffee.”

“Aren’t you always?” Steve just teased him.

Bucky pulled a face and stuck his tongue out before demolishing another couple of cookies.

They finished the whole packet between them, and ate the last of the M&Ms. It wasn’t exactly a filling breakfast but it did take the edge off their hunger. After brushing their teeth with the bottle of water and striking camp (Bucky’s term, which apparently meant packing it all haphazardly back in the boat), Bucky decided they needed a swim to wash off.

Steve watched as Bucky raced down the water, splashing up to his knees before he dove headlong into the waves. He surfaced a few strokes later and shook the water from his hair sending it flying out in a circle around him.

“You coming in?” he shouted to Steve who found himself too transfixed to move.

_I don’t want a relationship. I can’t handle a relationship. I need to figure out who I am on my own. _Steve repeated it to himself, reminding himself of why he couldn’t let himself love Bucky and give in to the easy temptation of trying to make things work.

“Yeah, I’m coming.” Steve shouted back.

It was for the best, in the long run. It was the right thing to do. It was the _right_ _thing_ to do.

=

Before they returned the boat to the harbour, Steve dropped anchor a little way off shore and watched Bucky dive overboard in a graceful arc. They’d gone searching for dolphins again but after forty minutes of cruising around with nothing in sight, Bucky called it.

“Wouldn’t have been as good as last time anyway.” He’d shrugged. “Let’s just go for a swim.”

So, even though they’d been swimming all morning, Steve found himself canon balling into the depths of the ocean beside Bucky.

“What are we doing for dinner tonight?” Bucky asked as he swam in lazy circles around Steve.

“We could just get room service? We do have to pa -” Bucky moved with a surprising speed to clamp a cold, wet hand across Steve’s mouth.

“Shhh.” Bucky instructed. “We’re not talking about that.”

Steve licked Bucky’s hand to make him retreat and Bucky splashed him in retaliation. Steve screwed his eyes shut and ducked under the water to avoid the worst of it. “We have to talk about at some point.” He said as he surfaced, trying again to float on his back and wishing they’d thought to pack lilos or floats with them.

“Not yet.” Bucky insisted.

“Fine.”

“Not until after dinner.”

“Alright.” It was easy to agree, Steve didn’t want to talk about it either. “What did you want to do for dinner then?”

Bucky didn’t answer immediately, he spun in a slow circle, keeping his head tilted to the sky and the sun on his face. When he rotated back to face Steve he was wearing a charming smile, one Steve was relieved he still got to see. “I think we should go down to the restaurant again. Get dressed up like it’s a fancy date.”

“You want me to wine and dine you?” Steve stopped trying to float on his back and let his legs sink until he was treading water upright, about a foot from Bucky.

“Of course.” Bucky pushed himself even closer.

“I think I can do that.”

“A last meal.” Bucky added softly.

They bobbed face to face for a minute. Bucky’s jaw kept ducking under the water as the water swelled around them. His hair was plastered to his head and rivulets of water kept trickling from stray strands to fall into his eyes. As water shifted around him, it glinted every now and again in the sunlight, alternating between reflecting his face and the clouds above.

“I know we’re not talking about it.” Steve said, making an effort to paddle on the spot and not lose eye contact with Bucky. “But I think you’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever met. And I really am going to miss you.”

Bucky’s expression turned pained, just a flicker and just for an instant, before he shook his head and bobbed forwards to kiss Steve. “Shut up.” He said, laced with affection. He kissed Steve again and it was only thanks to Bucky’s magical ability to float anywhere that they weren’t both dragged under the water.

They lay sprawled on the sun deck to dry off afterwards, letting the heat from the sun warm them, and bake their skin and swimming shorts dry. When Steve began to feel like he was burning and the persistent hunger in his stomach became impossible to ignore; they raised the anchor and headed back to the harbour.

It was easy enough to fall back into the patterns they’d established during the last two weeks. Steve nipped up to the room to return the blankets and pillows (after a shaking half a beach’s worth of sand out into the bathtub) whilst Bucky staked a shaded table out on the patio and ordered a round of fancy seafood sandwiches, a giant portion of fries and salad, and a couple of beers for their lunch.

Steve diligently tried not to think or talk about tomorrow and he knew it was selfish to want to know. But he had so many questions.

“Are you back in work on Monday?” Steve blurted over lunch.

Bucky swallowed his mouthful, looking a little peeved that Steve couldn’t stay off the topic of their goodbye, but he nodded. After taking a swig of beer he wiped his hand across the back of his mouth and let his frown settle into something more neutral.

“Yeah. 8am sharp.” He sighed. “You?”

Steve nodded. He wasn’t looking forward to the wall of back-to-back meetings that had slowly been building in his calendar the longer he’d been off. “I’ve never been away from the office this long. Dread to think how busy it’s going to be.”

“You’ve only been gone for two weeks.” Bucky protested.

“I know.” And whilst, technically, Steve had taken long holidays before, they’d always been ‘working holidays’. He (and Peggy who equally couldn’t switch off) would spend all morning on the phone or answering emails, approving proofs and commenting on proposed campaigns. At present, Steve still hadn’t checked his emails from last night or that morning, and the novelty wasn’t wasted on him. The last two weeks had been an exercising in letting go and one thing Steve was definitely taking away from it all, was that he had to remember to switch off and take a step back from work more often.

“We’ve got Becca and Rob’s _second_ wedding when we get back.” Bucky steered the conversation away from work and took another swig of his drink.

“Second wedding?”

“Yeah. Rob’s got a ton of family – too many to fly out here – so his parents are throwing a big garden party in a couple of weeks.”

“Sounds fun.”

“Eh.” Bucky looked unconvinced. “You’re underestimating the number of annoying aunts and cousins the guy has.” Bucky’s mouth twisted into a half smile. “I always wanted a big family growing up. Especially after it was just Becca, mom and me. Wished we had grandparents or cousins, or something. But after seeing how rowdy Rob’s family get, it’s enough to put me off for life.” Bucky laughed this time, though Steve noticed it sounded a little forced, like Bucky wasn’t entirely being honest with himself.

Steve could understand that though, he understood the lure of family. It was one of the reasons he’d found Peggy’s parents’ rejection of him so hard to bear. Steve shook the thought from his mind and forced himself to stop thinking about Peggy and stop comparing her to Bucky. It wasn’t fair on Bucky – even if he did come up trumps every time. Bucky, Becca and Rob had welcomed Steve into their lives with ease, and Steve knew if he’d been given the chance to get them know them better, if he and Bucky were really able to make a go of things; they could easily have become his family one day.

Fuck. That train of thought definitely wasn’t helping. Steve knocked back his beer and took a calming breath instead. “I still think it sounds fun.” He eventually managed to answer.

Bucky snorted. “I’ll send you a photo of my cheek after all his aunts have stopped pinching it.” Bucky muttered. “Maybe you’ll change your mind.”

=

As much as Steve wished he could stop the endless rotation of the earth around the sun, and perhaps even master the art of turning back time to give them a few more days on the island, hours continued to slip by and the sun slipped lower in the sky.

“I’m gonna go get ready for dinner.” Bucky announced at 6pm.

Steve raised his head from where he was lying face down on a sun-lounger on the beach – with a book optimistically propped in front on him – and squinted up at Bucky. “Okay. Text me when you’re done with the shower and I’ll come up.”

Bucky stooped down to give Steve a quick kiss and trailed his finger down Steve’s back as he left. Steve twisted his head to watch Bucky pick his way across the beach before dropping his head back against his arms and sighed. He tried to focus back on the book he had open in front of him, but he could barely concentrate. His thoughts were upstairs with Bucky. After five more minutes of feeling the sun beat down on his back and realising he’d been glossing over the paragraphs without taking in any of the words, Steve packed up his book and his towel and headed up to the room as well.

Bucky was showering with the door open when Steve got up to the room, and as tempting as it was to step in and join him, Steve settled out on the balcony instead. He kicked his feet up on the railing and re-opened his book, still not managing to focus on the words in front of him as he listened to the muted sounds of Bucky humming and half-singing to himself in the shower.

When Steve heard the shower cut off he tipped his head backwards to greet Bucky with a smile when he emerged from the bathroom. Bucky gave him a fond shake of his head when he spotted Steve, and padded over to him.

“Get bored without me?” Bucky laughed. He crossed the room to drape his arms around Steve’s shoulders and pressed a kiss against Steve’s temple, not seeming to care that he was stood outside with only a towel slung low around his hips.

“Something like that.” Steve grinned back. He brought his hands up to grip Bucky’s arms and hold him in place a moment longer. Bucky propped his chin on Steve’s head and together they just stared out at the view, watching the tree tops sway in the wind and birds chase each other across the sky.

“Okay. Shower time.” Bucky patted Steve’s chest and extracted his arms. Steve let his head tip back against Bucky’s stomach and stared up at him. Bucky was beautiful even from this angle, with soft scruff still lining his jaw and a smile playing on his lips. “What’s that expression for?” Bucky asked.

Steve shook his head and forced himself to sit up, pushing down sentimental feelings that threatened to break his resolve about saying goodbye.

It was right thing to do, he forced himself to remember. In the long run. It had to be.


	35. Bucky

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all of your comments!!! 💙💙💙

Bucky dressed whilst Steve was in the shower, donning the last nice outfit he had buried in the bottom of his suitcase; slim cream chinos and a dark dress shirt with bold floral patterns that he wore open at the neck. He twisted around in the mirror to admire his reflection as he dabbed some after sun on his nose and fixed his hair. After a few days of looking a little pink, his skin had settled into a nice bronze tan, and his childhood freckles had made a reappearance across his nose and cheeks. The ends of his hair were turning blonder too, from a mixture of chlorine and sunlight and when he fixed his curls back from his forehead in a satisfying wave, Bucky concluded he looked like he’d thoroughly enjoyed two weeks in the sun. It was a look that complimented his outfit well.

“Wow, Bucky.” Steve stopped in the doorway of the bathroom with his hand frozen around the towel he was dragging through his hair. “You look stunning.”

“Thanks.” Bucky beamed back. “So do you.”

Naked really was a great look for Steve, especially now that he wasn’t shy about strutting around the room in his birthday suit; with his broad shoulders pulled back and his muscled thighs on display. Even the faint tan lines that striped across the tops of his thighs and the bottom of his stomach looked appealing. Steve hadn’t really picked up a tan, even with how much time they’d spent out in the sun, at least not compared to Bucky. But although his skin was still almost as pale as it had started out, it looked golden whenever it caught the sun’s rays, and even now, shaded and indoors, Steve radiated a warm look of health and vigour.

Steve snorted. “Sure I do. Think the restaurant would mind?”

“Maybe. I think they had a shoes and shirt policy.” Bucky sunk down onto the bed, happy to watch Steve get dressed. “Never said anything about pants, though.”

Steve stopped pulling a shirt out of the wardrobe to tip his head back and laugh. Love swelled in Bucky’s chest, regardless of their time limit. He loved being able to make Steve laugh like that.

Still grinning with a ridiculous dopey smile, Steve hopped into snug dark jeans and pale blue dress shirt. Bucky watched Steve run a light amount of gel through his hair and spend precisely half a minute preening it before he declared himself ready. It was stupidly unfair how effortless it was for him to look stunning.

“Shall we?” He proffered Bucky his arm like a proper gentleman and together they swept down towards the restaurant.

Steve had managed to wrangle to get them a table by the window, far enough away from the piano for the music not to be annoying but close to hear the light tinkling above the din of the other diners. There was no sign of Becca and Rob, for which Bucky was quite grateful. He didn’t want to have to share his last night with Steve.

They split a fancy bottle of white wine with their starters and Steve ordered a different, even fancier (judging by the price tag, Bucky knew next to nothing about wine) bottle of red to accompany their mains. Their feet kept brushing under the table, little reassuring taps during quite calms in their conversation, and whenever they weren’t eating Steve kept reaching out for Bucky’s hand, brushing his thumb across the pulse point in Bucky’s wrist. It was, probably, the nicest meal he’d ever had, and yet Bucky couldn’t remember a single thing they’d eaten.

They eked the meal out for as long as they could, ordering dessert, then coffees, and a second desert to share because both of them knew as soon as they returned upstairs, as soon as this evening was over, there wasn’t anything else they could to avoid their impending goodbye.

Steve paid for the check and Bucky let him without even putting up a pretence of protesting. Even after they’d paid, they continued sitting at the table, letting the restaurant empty around them as they simply sat enjoying each other’s company and staring out at the cloak of night which had fallen over the island.

“Come on.” Steve urged softly when his wristwatch showed it was nearly 11pm. “You still have to pack.”

“I don’t want to leave you.” Bucky confessed in a hushed whisper that barely made it past his lips.

“I know.” Steve caressed Bucky’s wrist. “One step at a time. Let’s pack and then…and then we’ll deal with what comes next.”

Bucky glanced up at Steve’s eyes and saw them welling up with tears again. It was so damn unfair. Bucky completely understood Steve’s reservations about starting a new relationship, he understood _why_ they couldn’t be together but knowing that and enduring it were not even remotely the same thing.

They chose to take the stairs rather than the elevator, just to draw it out a little longer. Bucky’s fingers trailed lightly over the banister as they climbed slowly past each storey and all too soon Steve was pushing open to the door to the fourth floor and Bucky traipsed behind him to their room.

They packed in silence. The only thing Bucky had retained from his army days was keeping his bag packed and ready to go at only a moment’s notice, and even though his clothes had spilled over the side of his suitcase a little, and his cufflinks were still strewn on the desk, it took Bucky barely ten minutes before his suitcase was zipped closed and sitting neatly by the door with his rucksack emptied of sand (and mini-bar bottles) and re-packed with everything he’d need on the plane.

He settled onto the bed and texted Becca to confirm their ferry time in the morning before he let his head slump in the pillows to watch Steve potter around, collecting up all of his belongings from where they’d been stowed away in the wardrobe and various shelves and drawers in the room.

“Do you always unpack that thoroughly?” Bucky asked. “I don’t think I’ve ever used a hotel drawer in my life.”

“They’re there for a reason, Bucky.” Steve laughed.

“But what’s the point? You’re just going to tidy it all away again a week later?”

“Makes it feel more homely.” Steve shrugged.

Bucky supposed he couldn’t argue with that. His phone pinged with Becca’s reply that their ferry was: ‘8am sharp! Don’t be late Bucky!!!!’

A follow-up text threatened, with typical sisterly affection, that they’d leave without him if he wasn’t there on time. Bucky texted back to assure Becca he’d be there and then he found himself scrolling back through the various photos he’d taken during the past few days. The boat, the beach, mini golf, snorkelling, the market, the waterfalls, the dinner cruise. There were plenty of landscape shots and a couple of selfies, but most were of Steve’s grinning face or of his gloriously broad back as he turned his head away from Bucky to admire whatever view they were looking at it.

“Did I ever send you those photos from the boat trip?” Bucky asked, favouriting the best pictures as he scrolled through them.

“The sunset ones? Yes. But you were going to send me some from the market, and if you got any good ones yesterday.”

Bucky was about to send them, and then hesitated. “Do you still want me too?” He could understand if Steve didn’t want the reminder anymore.

“Of course I do, Bucky.” Steve stopped packing to look at Bucky when he spoke. “I always want to remember everything about these weeks. I’ll always remember you.”

Bucky could only nod. He selected the good ones with sharp jabs of his thumb and hit send, watching the pictures load one by one as bubbles in the message thread with Steve. The only thing they’d sent to each other were pictures back and forth. Everything else had been said face to face. Bucky couldn’t yet decide if that was going to make it easier or harder once he really started to miss Steve.

That done, he flopped back on the bed and moaned. “You packed yet, I’m bored?” Or rather, his thoughts were spiralling and he needed a distraction.

“Yeah, I guess I can finish the rest in the morning.” Steve slid his shoes beside his open case and straightened up the clothes he’d left out for the morning, apparently deciding that was good enough.

“Good. Now get over here.”

Steve flicked off the overhead lights so just the bedside lights were left, casting a muted glow that made the room look cosy and warm. He sunk onto the bed beside Bucky and rolled onto his side, propping his head up with a crooked arm. Bucky rolled over to face him so they were side by side, facing each other like parenthesis.

“What do you want to do?” Steve asked.

“Whatever you want.”

“Hmm.” Steve reached out to brush a stray curl back from Bucky’s forehead, then let his hand trace down the shell of Bucky’s ear and down his neck until his fingers curled around Bucky’s shoulder. He scooted closer and started trailing kisses along Bucky’s collar bone and all across his chest. It was exactly the kind of distraction Bucky wanted, but at the same time he couldn’t stand it. Not when this was all going to be taken away from him in the morning.

“Wait, stop.” Bucky reached out for Steve’s elbow. Steve stopped immediately and his brow furrowed in concern. “Would it be weird if we just…cuddled…? For a bit?” Bucky peered up at Steve.

“Not at all.” Steve rolled onto his back and opened his arms for Bucky to shuffle into. Bucky tucked his head into the familiar, comfortable spot on Steve’s chest and let his arm snake across Steve’s stomach. Something was missing though, but before Bucky could open his mouth to ask, Steve’s hand found its way to Bucky’s hair and started carding through it gently.

“Thank you.” Bucky snuggled closer feeling content for a moment, before his feelings overwhelmed his again. “I’m scared.” He admitted softly.

“Scared of what?” Steve’s fingers continued to card carefully through Bucky’s hair.

“Scared of what happens tomorrow, and after.” Bucky spoke against Steve’s chest. The truth was, he was scared of the depth of his feelings for Steve. He’d never felt like this before. “I’m scared of going back to a life without you.”

Steve’s hand stilled from a minute and he planted a kiss to the top of Bucky’s head instead. “You’ve managed your whole life without me, Buck. You’ll be fine.”

But that was just it. “I don’t want to go back to being just _fine_.” He muttered. “I like who I am with you, Steve. You make me feel confident, and charming.” Bucky felt like he’d been faking for so long since his injury, with Steve all his natural charm came flooding back tenfold.

“That’s all you, Buck. That’s not me.”

“You make me feel safe. Like I can just be myself. I haven’t had to hide anything from you ever, these last two weeks. You just accepted me exactly as I was.”

“Because you’re a wonderful person, Bucky. Truly. And you’ll find someone else who makes you feel the same, I know. Someone far more deserving of your charm and your goodness than I am.”

Bucky screwed his eyes shut and pressed his mouth into a line. Steve didn’t understand. Steve wasn’t like anyone Bucky had ever met. There was no one else like him.

“You’ve shown me that, Bucky.” Steve whispered.

“What?”

“Two weeks ago, I never thought I could love – ” Steve swallowed and Bucky’s heart skipped a beat. “Anyone the way I did Peggy. But then I met you.”

Bucky choked on the next breath he took. “You love me?”

“_Could_ love you.” Steve corrected in a low whisper.

“I don’t understand.” Bucky twisted up to stare up at Steve. What did that mean? In Bucky’s experience you either loved someone or you didn’t.

“I could love you Bucky. I could love you so easily.”

“Then…” Bucky scrambled to his knees and frowned down at Steve whose expression looked incredibly pained for the type of confession he’d just made.

“But I _can’t_.”

“I’m not following. You’re not making any sense, Steve.”

“I know.” Steve flung his arm across his eyes to hide his face.

Bucky waited with baited breath for Steve to gather his thoughts. Silence stretched between them but Bucky dared not break it.

“I’m a mess, Buck. I’m an emotional wreck. You’ve done wonders to hold me together this week, you really have, but when I go home tomorrow and I have to face up to all of my problems – I’m going to fall apart. I can feel it.” He let his arm fall behind him onto the pillow and fixed Bucky with a fraught, teary-eyed expression. “You don’t deserve to be mixed up in all of that. I don’t want you to get buried under the weight of all my issues or bear any of the burden of sorting my life out.”

Bucky sat back on his heels and swallowed the lump into his throat. He offered his hand to Steve and Steve immediately grasped for it and heled it clutched tight to his chest.

“Peggy and I were doomed from the start because of the rocky foundation to our relationship. I was…I was so scared of messing up a good thing that I tried to ignore all of our problems. I never spoke up about what I wanted and I refused to let myself see her flaws. If we…” Steve blinked back tears and lower lip wobbled as he gathered dup the composure to carry on. Bucky squeezed his hand around Steve’s and gave him a silent nod that was hopefully encouraging. If he opened his mouth he knew his voice would crack and he’d start crying too.

“If we tried to start anything now, when I’m this much of a mess? We’ll only be laying shaky foundations that couldn’t hope to last and I don’t want that Bucky. I’d want to be able to give you everything. Right now, I don’t know where my head is at. I don’t trust any of my emotions. I don’t trust myself to be able to give you what you deserve or need. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” Bucky murmured. It hurt, but Bucky understood.

“This past week has honestly been one the best weeks of my life. And no matter what happens I want to cherish this time I had with you. I’d rather not risk losing that on a relationship that’s doomed to fail.” Steve brought Bucky’s hand up to his lips and pressed a gently kiss against Bucky’s knuckles. “I meant what I said, I want to remember you forever, Bucky. I want to be able look back at this week and smile. I’m going to need these memories to get me through some tough times ahead, I know it.”

“Oh, _Steve_.” Bucky practically sobbed. He threw himself back against Steve’s chest for a hug. Maybe Steve was right. Maybe it was better to preserve the last two weeks in a little bubble of nostalgia; leave paradise where it belonged and get on with their real lives in the real world. “I’m always going to love you.”

“And I will always be grateful for that.” Steve whispered and pressed another kiss into Bucky’s hair.

=

They did end up having sex. One last, glorious, hurrah, to really cement their memories of each other. They moved as one, unsure where one ended and the other began; lost to blissful pleasure and the hot slide of skin against skin. Bucky collapsed against Steve after they both came in an explosion of ecstasy, his vision whited-out and for a long moment after starbursts of dizzying pleasure fizzled in his mind’s eye. Bucky had no words left to describe how he felt. But it didn’t matter, there wasn’t really anything left to be said. Bucky didn’t know how long they just lay there, a panting puddle of limbs as they crashed back to earth from the shattering high of their endorphins, but when Bucky eventually found the strength to move himself to the bathroom, the clock on the side said it was nearly 4am.

“When’s your ferry in the morning?” Steve muttered sleepily as Bucky crawled under the covers.

“8.”

“Don’t forget to set an alarm.” Steve yawned.

“Maybe I could just switch off my phone. Miss my flight,” Bucky chuckled. “Have no choice but to go home with you.”

Steve didn’t answer, choosing instead to tickle Bucky into silence before pulling him to close to spoon against his back.

“S’alright. I’ve set an alarm for you.”

“Spoilsport.”

“Yup.”

Steve gave another jaw-cracking yawn against the back of Bucky’s neck, quickly followed by a snuffling pattern of breath that told Bucky he’d fallen asleep.

Bucky tried to stay awake to stretch out the last moments, but sleep tugged inescapably at the corners of his mind and he felt himself slipping under the current that dragged him away from consciousness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry if this feels like I'm dragging their goodbye out, I'm not doing this on purpose I promise! 💙💙💙 (and please don't hate Steve too much, he's just doing what he thinks is best). The happy ending tag is definitely still there and I'm writing the next chapters as fast as I can, once I have the last parts finished I'll start posting more frequently.


	36. Steve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Goodbye - Part One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry in advance! 💙💙💙

Steve and Bucky’s alarms both began to blare at 6.30am: a standard monotone alarm beep, discordantly accompanied by a shrill ringing that sounded like a firehouse siren. Steve started, his eyes flew open and he was about to bolt upright and switch off his alarm, when the tangled bundle of covers and limbs wrapped around his torso and legs squeezed tighter, and prevented him from moving.

Laughing softly and trying not to disturb Bucky, Steve reached out for his phone and silenced the noise with a quick swipe of his thumb. Bucky’s phone continued to blare siren sounds.

“Bucky.” Steve urged him gently, pushing the covers back to reveal Bucky’s sleepy face smashed against Steve’s stomach. “Time to wake up.”

Bucky contracted all over, screwing himself into a tighter ball and strengthening the grip his limbs had around Steve. 

“No.”

“You’ve got a flight to catch.”

Bucky mumbled a disgruntled ‘blergh’ sound and finally began to loosen up and stir in way that indicated he was waking up. He flung his arm back towards his bedside table and scrabbled around for his phone, before retracting both his arm and the still blaring phone under the covers. The phone fell silent and moment later and the bundle wriggled and let go of Steve to flop onto his own side of the bed.

“Why did I book such an early flight?” he mumbled.

“It’s not that early.” Steve countered.

“Yeah, that’s right. You’re late for your morning run, aren’t you?” Bucky’s face emerged from under the comforter and he grinned up at Steve. His hair was a giant floofy mess and his sleepy smile was incredibly adorable.

“I don’t feel like running today.”

“No? Me neither.” Bucky sunk back onto the pillows and his eyes drifted shut once again.

“Come on, Buck. You said you wanted a shower this morning. If you don’t get up now, you’ll end up running for your flight.”

“Urgh. Fine.” Bucky rolled out of bed, actually rolled – landing with a soft thump on the floor before picking himself up and stumbling towards the bathroom. Steve watched him go with a fond smile before he began to scroll half-heartedly through his emails; listening to Bucky clatter around in the shower. When it sounded like Bucky was almost done, Steve pushed himself out of bed to turn on the coffee machine and open up the curtains, letting pale morning sunlight spill into the room.

Bucky dried off and dressed quietly, packing-up his wash kit, phone charger and yesterday’s clothes without saying a word. Steve tried to stay out of his way, tinkering around with the coffee machine to make two cups of coffee, keeping himself busy to quell his apprehension about their imminent goodbye. Bucky didn’t take long to pack, gathering everything together with what Steve supposed was a brisk, military efficiency. When he was done, he sat on the end of the bed and accepted the cup of coffee Steve handed to him.

“Do you want any breakfast?” Steve belatedly wondered if he should have ordered something from room service whilst Bucky was showering, or if maybe they had time to grab something together downstairs.

Bucky shook his head. “I’ll get something at the airport.” He gulped down the coffee and Steve inwardly cursed the tiny size of the mugs in the room. 

“Alright.” Steve glanced at the time. It was approaching 7.15am. The Ferry left at 8am, but Steve knew you were meant to be there at least twenty minutes before for processing and boarding. There wasn’t much else to do other than say a final, painful goodbye. As much as he was dreading it, Steve was out of ideas to prolong it. “I guess this is it.”

“Yeah, I guess it is.” Bucky stood up and placed the cup carefully back on the sideboard before checking his pockets for his wallet, phone and passport. That done he simply stood in front of Steve. They were both at a loss for what to say or do. How could you sum it up in a simple goodbye? What words were ever going to be enough for what they’d shared?

“Thank you.” Steve tried. “Thank you for everything this week.”

Bucky stepped up to Steve and opened his arms up for a hug. Steve readily welcomed Bucky into his arms, holding him tight to his chest.

“I’m gonna miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too.”

They continued hugging, clinging to each other really, neither of them keen to let go first.

“Kiss goodbye?” Bucky asked, tilting his head up to look at Steve.

“Of course.” Steve cupped Bucky’s jaw and drew him in for a kiss. Long and lingering, with just an edge of desperation. It left them both breathless and Steve’s lips tingled with the remembrance of Bucky’s mouth on his.

“Well, if you ever change your mind, or if you’re ever near Shelbyville,” Bucky mustered a grin but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Give me a call.”

Steve froze. No. That was exactly what he’d been trying to avoid, their whole conversation yesterday had been about precisely why that was a bad idea. Steve stared at Bucky, at his hopeful, tentative expression and felt his heart crack right down the middle. Steve knew what he had to do and knew, no matter how much it hurt to say it – it had to be said. “I’m not going to change my mind, Buck.”

Bucky’s face fell and the last glimmer of hope left his eyes.

“_Bucky_, I don’t want you to live your life waiting for me to call you...in fact,” Steve sucked in a breath and braced himself for what he had to say next. “I think we should delete each other’s numbers.”

Bucky pulled himself out of Steve’s arms and took a few shaky steps away from him.

“What?” The look on his face could only be described as one of betrayal.

“It’s the only way we’ll be able to let go.” The only way Steve was going to be able to resist the temptation of calling Bucky, changing his mind, and ruining everything. Steve thought they’d been on the same page last night, but seeing how distraught Bucky looked now, Steve realised Bucky had still been holding out and hoping that Steve would change his mind a few weeks down the line. “It’s the only way we’ll be able to move on.” Steve whispered, desperate for Bucky to understand and agree with him. “Please, Bucky. I’m not going to change my mind. I can’t.”

Bucky’s expression shifted from something crestfallen, to something closed-off and unreadable. It went against every fibre of Steve’s being not to reach out and hug him, to try to make everything okay.

“Fine.” Even Bucky’s tone was inexpressive. “Give me your phone.” He held out his hands and his fingers flexed once in a brisk ‘gimme’ motion.

Steve handed it over.

“You saved the photos?” Bucky asked without looking up at Steve.

Steve nodded then forced out a “yes” which ended up sounding rather hoarse.

Bucky clicked around on Steve’s phone before handing it back. Steve almost didn’t want to see the evidence of Bucky being wiped from his life, but he had to check. ‘Bucky Barnes’ had been removed as a contact and message thread deleted. The sight lodged a lump in the back of Steve’s throat that was painful to swallow.

Bucky pulled out his own phone and went through the same motions. When he brought his eyes back up to look at Steve his face was carefully blank of any emotion.

“I’m sorry.” Steve croaked.

Bucky nodded but didn’t say anything. His jaw clenched slightly, the muscle jumping in his cheek. It made him look angry just for a second. Good, Steve thought. If Bucky was angry with him it might this whole thing a little easier.

“Good luck with everything, Steve.”

“You too.” Steve managed to reply. He wanted to hug Bucky again one last time, but he held back and forced himself just to watch as Bucky pocketed his phone and grabbed his rucksack and suitcase. Bucky stood with his back to Steve, hovering in front of the door for half a moment.

“Goodbye, Steve.” Bucky said faintly without even turning back to look at him.

“Goodbye, Bucky.” Steve forced himself to stand still and not to run to him.

Bucky gave a short, sharp nod of his head and gripped the handle of his bag tightly before he pulled open the door and stepped through it. It fell closed behind him and locked with a final sounding click.

Steve staggered backwards until his legs hit the edge of the bed and he sunk onto it, fighting to breathe. Left all alone in the empty room, Steve let out a broken whimper, and then, because he couldn’t hold his tears back any more, he started to cry. Great, loud, gut wrenching sobs that wracked through him and heaved his shoulders. He folded in on himself and let the sobs convulse through him, spluttering broken breaths through tears and snot. He’d only cried like that twice before in his life. Once, when his ma had died and he’d locked himself in the hospital bathroom before the CPS people could whisk him away. Twice, when Steve had finally managed to shake off Sam at the chapel and hailed a cab to take him back to his apartment – _the_ apartment – trying to hold himself together until he was finally alone and could lock himself in the bedroom to breakdown and cry. And now; sobbing helplessly on the edge of the bed that had mussed and rucked by Bucky - someone Steve couldn’t let himself admit that he loved - as he walked out of the door because Steve had asked him to go.

Steve cried until his tears were exhausted, until his throat was dry and his head ached. But he stayed sitting hunched over for a long time after that; mired in a sea of guilt and fear that he’d made the wrong choice. He had to believe he’d made the right call. Had to believe he was sparing both of them from even more heartache further down the line. When Steve’s back began to ache from how he’d been sitting, he forced himself to his feet and tried to spur himself into action. He dragged a hand across his face and wiped his tears from his cheeks with the heel of his hand as he stared around at the room and his lingering belongings. If he focused on the tasks at hand he could ignore the sharp pains in his chest; he needed to shower and pack. He needed to vacate the room by 10 am, and check-out. Then he needed to eat, and somehow fill the time between then and he water taxi he’d booked for 1pm. First things first he needed to text Sam.

  
**  
_Steve_  
**

_Can you pick me up from the airport this evening? Should land at 9._

The reply came through almost instantly.

  
**  
_Sam_  
**

_Yeah no prob_

Steve hesitated before asking the question he really wanted to ask.

****

**  
_Steve_  
**

_Can I stay at yours tonight? Not ready to go back to the apartment yet._

A bubble appeared indicating that Sam was typing a message but it disappeared before he sent a reply. Steve gripped his phone tightly waiting for the reply. If Sam said no, Steve could always find a hotel, he just really couldn’t face going back to the apartment, not in the state he was in. He needed a few days to pull himself together first.

****

**  
_Sam_  
**

_Riley says that’s fine. _

_Text me when you’re on the plane. _

** _Steve_ **

_Thanks. Will do._

Steve let out a huge sigh of relief and let his phone drop onto the bed. Task 1 complete, now onto the next, and the next, until moving through the day without feeling the urge to drop everything and cry, felt natural again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry! 😭💔
> 
> Next chapter will still be posted this weekend as usual, I'm aiming to start posting more frequently so that it hurts less!
> 
> The happy ending tag is still there, don't worry.
> 
> Comments are always appreciated!!! I love reading each and every one of them, seriously they always brighten my day!!! 💙💙💙


	37. Bucky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Goodbye, Part Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I'm making you read the sadness twice, but I thought it was fair we got Bucky's POV too....💔
> 
> I can't thank you all enough for your comments! I seriously love every single one, it's amazing to know that people are reading (and liking!!!) what I write. Thank you so much 💙💙💙

Bucky really didn’t want to wake up. Why couldn’t he stay cocooned in that moment, curled up warm and comfortable against Steve’s side? Why did real life have to get in the way?

“Bucky, time to wake up.” Steve urged with a gentle voice.

“No.” Bucky burrowed deeper under the covers.

“You’ve got a flight to catch.” Steve said, like Bucky needed reminding of that fact; like he hadn’t been dreading it all night. Why couldn’t he stay exactly where he was forever? Why did all good things have to come to an end?

Eventually, the blaring alarm tone of his phone eventually became too much for even Bucky to ignore, and he pulled his phone from the bedside table to silence it. He rolled over onto his side of the bed, but he lacked the energy, or the desire, to do anything more than that.

“Why did I book such an early flight?” Bucky complained.

“It’s not early.”

Bucky pulled the covers away from his face and stared across at Steve in all of his early morning, golden beauty. Ugh, why did he have to be so perfect? “Yeah, that’s right. You’re late for your morning run, aren’t you?”

Steve gave him a sad sort of smile. “I don’t feel like running today.”

“No? Me neither.” Why did he had to leave? And why did he have to leave so early? Couldn’t they even have this one last morning together? Bucky slumped against the pillows and stared longingly at Steve. Why was it Bucky who had to do the painful thing and tear himself away first?

“Come on, Bucky. You said you wanted a shower this morning. If you don’t get up now, you’ll end up running for your flight.”

It took another few moments for him to muster to motivation to roll out of bed and stumble into the shower. He stood under the spray for ages, letting the water cascade around him without moving or doing anything other than wasting time and water. He didn’t want to leave Steve. He really didn’t want to go.

He dressed and packed quickly, running through the motions with habitual efficiency and only realising when his suitcase and rucksack were fully packed that the should have tried to draw it out a little bit. At a loss for what else to do, Bucky slumped onto the edge of the bed and glanced around the room. Steve handed him a cup of coffee and Bucky gulped it down; habit preventing him from even prolonging that.

“Do you want any breakfast?”

“I’ll get something at the airport.” He shook his head.

“Alright.”

Bucky cradled the empty mug in his hands which was still warm, even through the coffee was gone. He glanced up at Steve, taking one last look at him in all of his freshly-woken glory. His blonde hair was mussed and his clothes were askew from sleeping entwined with Bucky; the white tank undershirt he was wearing was pulled wonkily across his chest, exposing a large portion of his left pec and his black boxers were rucked up high across his thighs. Bucky had to sigh. As much as he loved Steve for his personality, he couldn’t deny that he was going to miss sights like that too.

“I guess this is it.” Steve looked just as lost as Bucky felt.

“Yeah, I guess it is.” Bucky stood and placed the cup carefully back on the sideboard. He patted down his pockets for his wallet, phone and passport, trying desperately to think of an excuse to stick around for just a little bit longer. Nothing came to mind.

“Thank you.” Steve said, sounding preciously sincere. “Thank you for everything this week.”

This was really it then. But Bucky wasn’t leaving without one last hug, and one last kiss. He opened up his arms and Steve readily accepted him, pulling his close and holding tight.

“I’m gonna miss you.” Bucky said into Steve’s shoulder.

“I’ll miss you too.”

Maybe this wouldn’t really be goodbye, Bucky hoped desperately as he held onto Steve, clinging to him fast. Maybe they’d cross paths again, maybe Steve would change his mind a few weeks down the line.

He tilted his head up to look at Steve, taking his last fill of Steve’s long lashes and the strong curve of his jaw. “Kiss goodbye?” He asked.

“Of course.”

Bucky tried to savour it, but it was over too soon. He let his forehead all against Steve’s for half a moment, feeling-kiss drunk and breathless before he pulled back a little to smile up at Steve, the pair of them still wrapped in each other’s arms.

“Well,” Bucky aimed for a light and carefree tone, that mostly missed the mark. “If you ever change your mind, or if you’re ever near Shelbyville, give me a call.” He pushed his mouth into a smile but there was no happiness behind it.

When Bucky noticed Steve’s expression, though, he couldn’t even pretend to smile anymore. His grip tightened reflexively on Steve’s hip.

“I’m not going to change my mind, Buck.” Steve frowned at him, brows pulling together with a crease. “_Bucky_, I don’t want you to live your life waiting for me to call you... in fact,” Steve faltered.

Bucky’s head was ringing, he wanted to stuff his hands over his ears to prevent him from hearing whatever was coming next. From the way Steve’s lip was wobbling it wasn’t going to be anything good. “I think we should delete each other’s numbers.”

The ringing turned into drone of white noise. Bucky wrenched himself from Steve’s arms and staggered backwards. “What?” Had he heard right? Shocked and hurt didn’t quite capture how he was feeling. What happened to always remembering each other?

“It’s the only way we’ll be able to let go.” Steve said quietly. “It’s the only way we’ll be able to move on. Please, Bucky. I’m not going to change my mind. I can’t.” He pleaded, sounding and looking desperate. The hurt in his eyes was too much for Bucky to take. He couldn’t do this anymore. Maybe Steve was right. Maybe a clean break here was the only way they were going to be able to cope with this. He was already fed up of feeling this upset and wrung out; it was exactly why he normally avoided relationships. They were messy and complicated and people got hurt. What a fool he was, for thinking he’d be safe with a holiday fling.

“Fine.” Bucky intoned. If they were doing this, they were doing this. He wasn’t going to drag it out any longer. He snatched a hand out for Steve’s phone and scrolled through to their message thread, seeing all of the photos Bucky had sent through yesterday evening; all of their happy, lying, smiling faces. “You saved the photos?” He asked without looking up at Steve.

Steve mumbled back a quiet, “yes.”

Bucky didn’t let himself hesitate as he deleted the thread and then scrolled to find his entry in Steve’s contact list and deleted that too. There. Gone. Any hope of them reconnecting in the future summarily erased. Bucky thrust it back and Steve and pulled his own phone from his pocket, moving through the same motions with a dejected air of detachment.

“I’m sorry.” Steve croaked.

Bucky glanced up at Steve and nodded, but he couldn’t bring himself to say anything. What else was there to say? Anything he said now was going to sound and angry and upset, and he didn’t want to be angry at Steve. None of this was his fault. Bucky clenched his jaw and forced a calming breath out through his nose. No matter how hurt he currently felt, Bucky wouldn’t let things end on a bitter note that he’d live to regret.

“Good luck with everything, Steve.”

“You too.”

Before his resolve left him, Bucky pocketed his phone and hurried to the door, grabbing his rucksack and suitcase. He hovered by the door for one final moment, silently warring with everything he wanted to yell and scream and plead at Steve. _I love you_. He wanted to shout. _I love you, please don’t make me go_. But he bit it back and squeezed the grip on his suitcase so tightly his knuckles threatened to pop.

“Goodbye, Steve.” He managed to mutter, faintly, the words hovering above a breath that was about to crack into a sob if he wasn’t careful. 

“Goodbye, Bucky.” Steve sounded on the verge of tears himself and it took every ounce of resolve Bucky had left not to turn around and hug Steve’s pain away. Giving a last nod, to himself more than anything, convincing himself that this was something he had to do, Bucky pulled open the hotel door and stepped through it.

It slammed closed behind him and Bucky’s breath caught in his chest. He all but ran down the corridor, jabbing his thumb angrily to call for the lift. He raised his eyes to the ceiling like he could use gravity to push his tears back into his tear ducts, but by the time the elevator doors swished open, Bucky was crying freely. He sniffed and sobbed as the elevator dropped to the ground floor, full of heartache and fear. He already missed Steve, and the weight of his hurt was overwhelming; Bucky didn’t see how he’d ever be able to move past it. He let himself cry until the elevator indicated they were approaching the ground floor and hastily began to pull himself together before the doors opened in the lobby.

Becca and Rob were already standing at the desk, half way through the process of checking out. Bucky took a few moments to compose himself before he went to join them; hoping they’d mistake his tear-wrecked appearance for just being tired. They were still on their honeymoon, and he wasn’t going to wreck it for them by moping around or letting them see him cry. Bucky hastily wiped the evidence of his tears from his eyes and cheeks and sniffed and couple of times to level out his breathing before he strode across the lobby to join them at the reception desk.

“Wow, you actually made it on time,” Becca laughed as he approached, barely sparing a glance up at him from the invoices she was checking through.

He nodded without saying anything; knowing his hoarse voice would betray him.

“And we’ll definitely receive the photos within two weeks?” Becca turned back to the clerk, ignoring Bucky like he’d hoped she would.

He let his attention wander as she finished checking out and paid off their tab, sweeping his gaze down towards the bar, the patio, and the sparkling blue ocean just visible through the gentle swaying of the white drapes. Some paradise, he thought bitterly, feeling wretched and heartbroken and wishing – for a moment – that he’d never stepped foot in this place.

“Bucky?” He felt Becca’s hand on his arm which brought him back to the present with a jolt. “Ready to go?”

He coughed and blinked at her. “Yeah, yeah. Just let me – ” he broke away from her and stepped up to the desk to pay off his bar bill and tab too. Steve had insisted he’d pay for it, but the bitter part of Bucky’s mind wanted to pay it out of spite. Fuck Steve’s generosity and his noble heart. Bucky couldn’t let himself snap at Steve or ever be truly angry at him for how things had ended; but he could take this little thing away from him. Maybe it was petty, and maybe it didn’t really make sense, but Bucky felt better for it after he paid the bill and pocketed his wallet. He gave the hotel lobby one last longing look, half hoping the elevator doors might open and Steve might spill from them, chasing after Bucky to declare his undying love…

Bucky shook the unhelpful thought from his mind and shouldered his rucksack. “Okay. Let’s go.”

=

He stood in the bow of the ferry on the way back, feeling moody and miserable. Loss wasn’t a new feeling for Bucky; he was well practised at grieving by now. But, sadly, experience didn’t make it any easier to deal with. The one comfort it brought him was that with time, his feelings would lessen and the hollow heartache he felt right now would eventually pass. He let out a deep sigh and slunk to lean against the railing, watching the water rush beneath the ferry to get churned up in its wake.

He let Becca and Rob check in before him at the airport and let them slip quickly through security, promising he’d meet up with them at the gate before they left. Becca was reluctant, but Bucky managed to persuade them to enjoy the last few moments of their honeymoon without him moping around like a very morose third wheel. He queued up in line for security, dutifully emptying his pockets, taking off his sunglasses and his shoes, only to step through the machine and set it ringing loudly.

Without complaining he lifted his arms and widened his stance for the usual pat down and scan. Unfortunately, because today was clearly going to be one of those days, the security agents weren’t satisfied with that, and Bucky found himself being ushered to a private examination room.

“They’re medical pins and plates.” He tried to explain, but the security agents stoically ignored him. It wasn’t until he removed his shirt and exposed his patchwork of scars – all of which got re-scanned with handheld metal detector – that Bucky was free to go. He shivered as he tugged his t-shirt back over his head and collected his belongs back from the security agents. Fuck Steve. Really, truly _fuck_ him. There was nothing beautiful about Bucky’s scars, at least the security agents and their repulsed expressions certainly didn’t think so. His scars were nothing more than an ugly nuisance, and Bucky had been a fool to let Steve try and convince him otherwise.

By the time he’d cleared security, Bucky had just enough time to grab a pastry and a coffee from a shop by his gate and scarf them both down before it was time to board.

“Are you okay?” Becca finally asked him as joined the boarding queue beside her and Rob.

“I’ll be fine.” He tried to give her a smile. Clearly it wasn’t a very convincing one.

“Did it really go that badly between you?”

Bucky dipped his head and looked away. “Yeah.” He managed eventually, hating the way his voice cracked as he spoke. “But I’ll be fine. I promise.”

Becca grabbed his hand and gave it a squeeze. “I hate seeing you hurt.”

He squeezed her hand back, hard, and met her gaze with a teary-eyed smile. “I know.” He croaked. “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologise, you dummy.” Becca pulled him into a hug.

Bucky kicked the reflex to apologise for apologising and just hugged her tight. “Promise me something?”

“Sure?”

“I’m gonna be sad for a while,” Bucky said. “Just…let me be sad? For a bit? Before you try and fix it?”

Bucky knew he wouldn’t be able to hold off Becca’s attempts at match-making for ever. But that was the very last thing he needed right now.

“I’ll try.”

Bucky gave Becca a last squeeze before he slipped ahead of her and Rob to board first and hurried down to the aisle to find his seat; thanking the airlines incompetent booking system for assigning him a seat at the other end of the plane to them, and hoping whoever he wound up sitting next to wouldn’t mind if he quietly sobbed the entire way back to the States.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bucky isn't as smart as half of you....the numbers are both gone 😔😔 But they'll be reunited soon! The happy ending tag is definitely still there (and you'll be pleased to know I'm writing the reunion chapter as we speak!). Once I know how many chapters there are in total I'll update the fic info. 
> 
> Chapter 38 will be posted on Wednesday 27th May.


	38. Steve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for your comments!!!!! 💙💙💙💙💙
> 
> Warning: we find out a little more about Bucky's backstory, so fair warning for (mild) talk of what happened to him and his men.

Steve dropped both keys on the reception counter and pushed them towards to clerk. “Checking out, room 414.” He said. He’d taken a long hot shower after he’d finally stopped crying and taken extra time cultivating his appearance; he could only hope that he didn’t look as much of a hot mess as he felt. Once he’d finished packing and straightening the room back to the way they’d found it, Steve had almost burst into tears again. The sight of the neatly made bed and empty room, seeing all traces of his and Bucky’s presence were gone, was hard to bear. It was almost like none of it had ever happened; if not for the fresh ache in Steve’s heart it might have been nothing more than a dream.

“Thank you.” The clerk tapped something into their computer and smiled at Steve. “That’s great. The bar bill and room service were paid off this morning, so you’re all set.”

Steve sighed and lightly cursed Bucky; _he’d_ promised to pay for all of that. “Any chance you can cancel that payment and re-charge it to me?” He asked, flashing the clerk what he hoped was a charming smile and not a grimace.

The clerk looked confused. “No, sir, I’m afraid that’s not possible.”

Steve deflated, not surprised but disappointed all the same. “Worth a try.” He forced another smile and tapped his hand lightly against the counter top. _Bucky, Bucky, Bucky_. Steve dipped his head to stare at the polished marble. At least Steve had paid for most of the expensive stuff as they’d gone along; there’d only been the drinks and snacks they’d bought from the bar as they’d swum and sunbathed without taking their wallets poolside, that had been left to pay for. Steve glanced behind him to the sunken bar and the patio beyond, his thoughts clouded with memories. He frowned against the threat of tears and chewed on the inside of his lip as he wondered where Bucky was, and if he’d made it safely to the airport.

“Is there anything else I can help you with?” The clerk asked, jolting Steve from his reverie.

“Um, yeah I need to check my bags. Please.” He added belatedly. He needed to put Bucky from his mind. It wouldn’t do to dwell on him anymore.

Steve checked his suitcase into the luggage store and headed into the dining room to catch breakfast before it closed. As he sat at a table by himself, surrounded by couples and groups of people chatting happily away, Steve was overcome with a familiar wave of loneliness; an echo of the same hopelessness he’d felt sitting at the bar when he’d first arrived at the resort. His misery felt just as fresh and just as sharp as it had last time, but Steve was determined to power through it on his own. He needed to know what he was capable of.

=

As Steve breezed through security, he couldn’t help but scan the airport for a familiar head of brown waves. He even ignored the executive lounge in favour of sitting in the coffee shop by his gate, nursing a large iced coffee and watching fellow travellers passing by. It wasn’t that he expected Bucky to have stayed behind, especially not with how they’d left things. It wasn’t even that he particularly wanted Bucky to be there, it would have made everything a thousand times more difficult. It was just that Steve’s traitorous heart couldn’t stop looking for him.

Steve was emotionally and physically exhausted by the time he picked up his suitcase from baggage claim and practically fell into Sam’s waiting arms.

“Hey, dude.” Sam greeted him with a smile, releasing the hug and propping Steve back on his feet. “How’re you holding up?”

“Tired.” Steve admitted. He’d felt so refreshed on Saturday. It was amazing what a day of emotional turmoil could do to wreck your mood.

Sam clapped Steve on the back and herded Steve towards his waiting car. He seemed to pick up on the fact that Steve wasn’t in the mood to talk and turned the music up instead, driving back to his house in a companionable silence, for which Steve was immensely grateful.

Sam and Riley lived in a neat detached house in a quiet residential street lined with leafy trees. The house was all shut up when Steve rolled his suitcase to the front steps.

“Riley’s working late.” Sam explained, as he unlocked the front door. “Graveyard shift.”

“How long for?”

“Just this week then he’s back to his normal hours.” Sam sounded relieved by that, understandably. Steve knew Sam always worried for Riley when he had to work the nightshifts in the ER; it was when you saw all of the worst accidents, and with their schedules misaligned, it was easy to go for days without really seeing each other.

Steve lugged his suitcase up the front steps and followed Sam into the hallway as he flicked on all the lights. Steve always thought Sam’s house felt far more like a home than his apartment ever did, and he breathed a sigh of relief to be back somewhere comforting and familiar.

“So, how tired are you?” Sam asked. “’I want to go to sleep now’, tired. Or ‘I could eat and maybe watch a film’, tired?”

A smile tugged at the corner of Steve’s mouth for the first time all day. “I could eat.”

“I thought so.” Sam said warmly. “We ordered in from the Pavilion. Saved you a plate.”

“Thank you, Sam, you’re the best.” Steve said sincerely.

“Yeah. I know.” Sam folded his arms and gave Steve a hard look that made him feel like he was being assessed, before Sam’s expression softened into a smile. “Go on up and get settled, you know where the guest room is by now. I’ll heat your food up for you.” He nodded to the stairs and then turned around for the kitchen leaving Steve with no choice but follow orders.

Steve dropped his suitcase onto the bed and changed out of his jeans into the last pair of clean sweats and a jumper lurking at the bottom of his bag. It felt remarkably colder in DC than it had been in the tropics and Steve was craving the big hoodies and thick socks he knew he had back at the apartment. But fetching them would mean having to sort though everything Peggy had packed-up for him and Steve couldn’t quite face the idea of seeing his life reduced to a pile of boxes just yet. Though he supposed it might have been marginally better than seeing the remnants of his hasty re-packing ahead of the honeymoon, where he’d thrown out a few of Peggy’s favourite shirts and stuffed some books in their place. That tear blurred, anger fuelled memory wasn’t one Steve particularly wanted to revisit. He’d have to face the apartment soon though; he wouldn’t let himself impose on Sam and Riley for more than a couple of nights.

The smell of dumplings and spicy pork greeted Steve when he re-joined Sam downstairs. He inhaled deeply as he stepped into the kitchen and let himself sink against the countertops.

“Beer or soda?” Sam asked with his head in the fridge.

“Beer.” Steve said immediately. If he didn’t have a day of wall-to-wall meetings starting from 8.30am the next morning, he might have even opted for something stronger. Sam popped two open and passed onto the Steve, before sliding a steaming plate of Chinese food and cutlery across the worktop towards him.

“C’mon, you can eat in the lounge. What do you fancy watching?”

“Something mindless and happy.” Steve didn’t really care what it was, so long as he didn’t have to devote that much brain power to it.

Sam scrolled through Netflix for a bit before deciding on a ridiculous action movie they’d both watched countless times before to laugh at how stupid the plot and the dialogue was. Steve tucked into to his food and tried not to think about anything other than the overblown antics playing out on screen. It could have been just any other movie night, if Steve’s heart hadn’t felt like a fragile, reassembled piece of porcelain, held together by sticky tape and sheer force of will.

“I hate to ask, but. Have you spoken to Peggy at all?” Sam asked eventually.

Steve cleared his throat before answering. “Uh, yeah. She’s in Paris…with Daniel.” Steve glanced across at Sam to watch his reaction. It took a second, but his brow furrowed and he looked bewildered.

“Like, _with_ Daniel?”

Steve could only nod.

“Shit.”

“Yep.” Steve raised his eyebrows and took a swig of beer.

“That was fast.” When Steve shook his head, Sam’s frown deepened. “No?”

“Two years.” Steve said with a sad sigh. “She insists nothing happened, but.” He shrugged. Falling in love with someone else seemed somehow worse than cheating, if he was being honest.

“Well, damn. I’m sorry.”

“Me too.” Steve dropped his focus back to his food, but he could feel Sam was still staring at him, and when he glanced up he noticed Sam’s expression looked vaguely guilty.

“Is now a bad time to tell you that I never thought the two of you should get married?”

Steve stared. “Might have been helpful to hear that before I shelled out for a ridiculous wedding, yeah.” There was no real anger in his voice though. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

Steve had known Sam for six years, when he’d hired him as a Project Manager, fresh from the Airforce. Sam had fretted during the interview that he didn’t have the requisite qualifications, but if anything, Steve thought he was over qualified, and he'd immediately known Sam was the sort of person he wanted working in his company. Within two years, he’d promoted Sam to his Chief Operating Officer and they’d be fast friends ever since. Sam had always seemed to like Peggy well enough, the four of them had spent thanksgiving together on Riley’s family ranch one year, for god’s sake. It was news to Steve that Sam didn’t think they were right for each other.

“Didn’t want to meddle?” Sam still looked guilty. “Honestly, I thought you’d figure it out between yourselves before it ever got that far. Didn’t think it would go down quite like it did, though.”

Yeah, Steve never imagined he’d ever be jilted either. Nor did he think it would ever be possible for that to the _second_ most heart-breaking thing to happen to him in the space of two weeks. “For future reference? Please meddle. I’m very clearly clueless.” _And shouldn’t be trusted to make decisions regarding my heart_, Steve wanted to add, but didn’t; thinking back to Bucky and hoping beyond hope that he’d made the right call.

Sam just nodded and gave Steve a sympathetic smile. “Was the resort at least nice?”

“Yeah, it was very…fancy.” Steve gave up searching for a better word.

Sam chuckled. “Yeah, I bet. What was it like having the honeymoon suite all to yourself? Must have been luxury.”

“I didn’t. Swapped rooms.” Steve admitted. “Gave it to a couple getting married there. You know them actually,” he added in between mouthfuls. “Rob Proctor and Becca Barnes?”

“Oh really? Becca and Rob finally tied the knot, then? You know, last time I saw them, Rob was just working up the courage to propose.”

Steve nodded, but he couldn’t bring himself to smile. He could tell Sam was going to ask about Bucky next and Steve had been hoping to avoid that conversation for…well, ever really. He cringed with stupidity at having brought the topic up.

“I remember now, you said you met JB?”

“Yeah.”

“He’s the one that convinced you to stay, right?”

Steve nodded and stuffed his mouth with a dumpling to avoid having to answer further.

“How is he?”

It was an innocuous question but Steve didn’t know how to begin to answer. “Fine?” Steve said, though he knew it wasn’t true. Not after the shuttered hurt he’d seen in Bucky’s eyes that morning.

“You get to know him at all?” Sam pried. Well, Steve guessed it couldn’t really be called prying, Steve was just too grumpy to talk about it.

“Yeah.”

“And would that be in the _biblical_ sense?” Sam teased and flashed Steve a very knowing grin.

Steve didn’t want to, but he could feel himself blushing and the tips of his ears burning pink. He carried on eating and made a point of ignoring Sam, which only made things worse.

“That’s a blush! I’ll take that as a yes then.” Sam grinned triumphantly. “I knew it. Knew you were each other’s type. If you hadn’t been committed to Peggy, I’d’ve tried to set you up years ago.” Sam added.

Steve flashed Sam a confused look.

“Hey, he’s a great guy, but like I said – I don’t like to meddle.” Sam shrugged.

“How well do you know him?” Steve asked with an accelerating heartrate. Bucky had made it clear he knew Sam, but it sounded more like an old friendship. Steve had counted on there being no possibility of him and Bucky ever crossing paths again…

“I haven’t seen him in years.” Sam answered and Steve felt his overreaction settle and fade. “We ran some ops together back in the day and I, uh, I don’t know if he would have told you this. I pulled him out of Deh Bala.” Sam’s tone suddenly dropped into something serious.

“Yeah, he mentioned it.” Steve replied quietly.

Sam shook his head and took a long, long, drink from his beer bottle. “Man. I’ve seen some shit but that tops it all. It’s the reason I quit.”

Steve was still curious to know what had happened to Bucky, to know what he’d been through, and he knew Sam would tell him if he asked. But he felt guilty. Bucky hadn’t been very forthcoming with any details about that mission gone hellishly wrong, the one that clearly still troubled him both mentally and physically. He clearly hadn’t wanted to tell Steve, and Steve knew he should tell Sam to stop talking. Instead he drank some more beer and listened silently.

“They should’ve given that man the Medal of Honour for what he went through. I think he got a Silver Star for it in the end, but,” Sam shook his head. “They’d been there for 43 days before we managed to get to them. Rotting in this basement that had been carved out of the ground rock. Five of them left. They’d all been injured in the ambush and given just enough medical care to keep them alive, some of them were right on the cusp of death. Barnes especially. I mean, his _arm_,” Sam stopped and shook his head. “I shouldn’t be telling you this.” He took another drink.

“No.” Steve agreed. His voice wavered. He pushed his plate onto the coffee table, appetite gone, and suddenly he didn’t really want to know anymore. Images of Bucky smiling in the sun raced through his mind, his scars flashing white and pink in the sunlight against his tanned skin; Bucky sprawled beneath him in the darkened hotel room as Steve lavished kisses along his bicep. No. Steve didn’t need to picture Bucky half-dead in a rocky basement with his arm a mangled mess. God, no wonder he’d hated the sea caves so much.

“Do you know what the was the first thing he said to me?” Sam asked.

Steve shook his head.

“First thing after I stormed his cell, he says to me; ‘go find my men. Jones, Morita, Dugan. Down the hall. They need your help more than I do.’”

Goosebumps prickled over Steve’s arms and pushed his pulled the sleeves of his sweater down over his hands.

“I’ll never forget that.”

“Did you, did they…?” Steve’s voice dried up.

Sam shook his head and finished the last of his beer. “They were the three that died.”

Steve pressed his eyes closed and took a deep breath. _Oh, Bucky_. “He never…” Steve trailed and tried again. “He told me a little bit about it. But he brushed it off. He never made it sound that bad.”

“That doesn’t surprise me. He always underplayed his pain.” Sam said. Steve glanced up at him, feeling stricken all of a sudden. “Even on the chopper back he tried to tell me to give the morphine to the other guys and not to waste it on him.”

Steve’s brain was stuck on the last thing Sam had said, _always underplayed his pain_, and his mind was back on the beach. Back on that night, with Bucky assuring Steve that he was fine, that he’d be okay.

“Fuck.” He let out before he could help himself.

“What?”

Steve dropped his head into his hands and tugged angrily at tufts of his hair, pulling until his scalp began to ache.

“I…we…hooked-up, yeah. But it was more than that.” Steve started slowly. He didn’t want to have this conversation now, but he needed a second opinion; he needed reassurance that he’d done the right thing. “I gave my room away because I was planning on coming back immediately.”

“Yeah, you said.”

“Well after,” he paused to breathe, “after Bucky convinced me to stay – ”

“Bucky?” Sam interrupted.

“Barnes. JB. He goes by Bucky now.”

“Okay.”

“He convinced me to stay, but the hotel was fully booked. So, I,”

“Didn’t have a room.” Sam’s tone melted into something that sounded very smug.

“Right. I didn’t have a room. So, he invited me to stay with him.” Steve risked a glance up at Sam and found him grinning that gap-toothed mischievous grin of his. “We got…close.” Steve didn’t know how to describe it. “It was more than a hook-up.”

“I see.” Sam was beaming, there was no other word for it and guilt churned in Steve’s gut.

Steve finally let go of his hair and sat up, turning his gaze to the ceiling and focusing on his breathing to stop himself from crying. He didn’t want to cry in front of Sam.

“How did you leave it?” Sam asked.

“Not good.” Steve’s voice sounded traitorously small. Sam didn’t press and Steve was tempted to leave it there, but it couldn’t let it lie. He needed reassurance. “God, Sam. I fucked up. So bad.”

“What happened?”

“He told me he loved me. And I said I wasn’t ready for a relationship.” Steve cringed as he relayed it. God, out of context it sounded so callous. “Fuck. I’m such an asshole. A selfish fucking asshole.” Steve’s anxiety spiked and he gasped for breath.

“I mean…that doesn’t _sound_ great.” Sam allowed. “How exactly did you phrase it?”

Steve sucked in a deep breath and trying to parse through his thoughts, struggling to sum up everything that had happened in the last two weeks into a few concise sentences. “He knew about Peg. Knew I wasn’t ready for anything serious, so we both agreed to keep it casual. Just a fling – other people do that right?” Steve looked at Sam, a little desperately.

“Yeah, I believe so.”

“But it wasn’t casual, it was,” Steve pinched the bridge of his nose and screwed his eyes shut. He sighed, letting that train of thought fall away. Nothing about it had been casual, it had been intense and intimate right from the get go. It was no wonder they’d both developed _feelings_ along the way. “He said he’d fallen in love with me, and asked if we could try long distance, or if he could visit. I shut him down. Said I wasn’t ready for that. Fuck.” Steve exhaled. “He told me he loved me, and I said I was _grateful._ I’m such a jerk.”

“Yeah, you are.” Sam said. Steve snapped his gaze to him and saw Sam’s mouth was curling into a smile. “But not about that. Sounds like you were honest with him from the start.” Sam shrugged. “If you’re not ready, you’re not ready. Honestly seems like one your more mature decisions, if you ask me. How’d he take it?”

Steve scrubbed a hand down his face. “He said he’d be fine, but –”

“Then he’ll be fine.” Sam assured Steve.

Steve shook his head. Sam didn’t understand. “But I _hurt_ him, Sam. I _crushed_ him, and he’s already been through so much. I –”

“Look. Relationships are messy. More often than not, people get hurt. Barnes is the very definition of resilience. He said he’ll be fine, then he’ll be fine. Might take a while. But he’ll get there. So, will you.”

“It’s not that simple.” Steve tried to protest.

“I never said it was. It’ll take time.” This time Sam reach out to clasp Steve gently on the knee. “For the record, I think you made the right call, and I don’t think you were being selfish. Or even if you were, I think it was the right thing to do.”

Steve tried to feel reassured, but something still nagged at the back of his mind, a vague ache of regret that Steve doubted would disappear anytime soon.

“Want another beer?” Sam asked.

“Yeah, maybe.”

“Finished with your plate?”

Steve nodded and slumped back against the backrest of the sofa. He’d thought talking about it might help, but he just felt more drained.

“Here you go.” Sam popped the top off another bottle of beer and passed it to him.

“Thanks.” Steve flushed with guilt at how useless he was acting, making Sam run around after him like this. He made a promise with himself to get the dishes and be generally less pathetic tomorrow. 

“I saw you put a meeting in the calendar with Brandt? Were you drunk, or are you actually thinking of talking to him this time?” Sam laughed.

It wasn’t a subtle change in conversation, but Steve was grateful for it. “I’m thinking about it.”

“You know that’s going to mean more time in New York, right? You know he wants to open an office there?”

“Yeah I know.” Steve managed to summon a smile. “Think you could handle running things in DC for me?” They’d talked about it before, in abstract terms. Steve knew Sam would jump at the chance, and the gleam in his eye didn’t disappoint when he considered Steve’s offer.

“I might make a few changes.” Sam said coolly, keeping his face schooled into an expression of nonchalance that didn’t fool Steve.

“I’d be counting on it.” Steve smiled back.

Sam sipped at his beer for a minute, obviously working a question around his mind. “Not to look a gift horse in the mouth,” he started after a while, “but it’s gonna be a big change. You sure now’s a good time for that?”

“Now is the perfect time.”

“But, Peggy…Barnes…uprooting your life to New York, that’s an awful lot of emotional stress.”

“My life’s already a mess, Sam. I think it’s time to start a new chapter.”

“Yeah, but,” Sam was clearly worried and Steve was grateful that he still had someone in his life who cared about him that much. “It’s been, what, fourteen years since you were last in New York? Are you sure you’re ready to go back?”

Steve forced himself to mull over the question as he took another swig of beer. Even a few weeks ago the prospect would have pulled him up short, but Steve was a very different person now than he was back then.

“Yeah. I’m ready.” Steve felt sure of the first thing he had in weeks. “It’s time to go home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully AO3's notifications are working again, but if not - I'll be updating every wednesday and saturday going forward, so check back on 30th May for Chapter 39!
> 
> (ps, note the chapter count! we're in the homestretch....😅)
> 
> (pps please don't be mad at Sam, Steve did a terrible job of explaining the situation to him, he might change his tune later.....)
> 
> 💙💙💙💙


	39. Bucky

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all of your comments!!!

Bucky did a pretty good job of ignoring his feelings for a while. He threw himself back into work bright and early Monday morning, and found himself so bogged down with new case files that it was easy to switch off and lose himself in other people’s problems. He took his work home and stayed up late into the night putting far more time and effort into his research and data analysis than he normally bothered to. He managed to keep small talk with his colleagues to a minimum, responding to compliments about his tan with vague answers about his sister’s wedding; making no mention of torrid love affair which had left him broken hearted.

Everything was fine, until the Saturday of Becca’s second wedding loomed. Bucky donned the freshly dry-cleaned suit he’d worn to her proper wedding, fixed his hair and checked his jaw line in the mirror, which was back to its usual clean-shaven state. His tan was holding strong, despite the weak sunlight of a midwestern spring, and even though the bags under his eyes might look a little more pronounced than he would have liked, he thought he’d scrubbed up pretty well.

Rob’s parents lived in a big sprawling suburban house with a wrap around garden that they’d given over to the wedding celebration. Bucky parked his truck half way down the street in the closest parking space he could find and sat idling in the driver’s seat for a while. Even from that far away he could hear the party. It sounded like they had a couple hundred people there, maybe more. With a grimace, he pulled himself together and forced himself towards the house. Cream, pale blue and golden balloons were taped to the eaves of the porch and the lantern lights hanging from the garage, with a large chalk ‘Mr & Mrs’ sign hanging on the front door. Bucky spotted that the side door was open and slipped through into the chaos of the garden. All of the house’s doors had been thrown open and lots of mismatched chairs and tables had been set up on the back lawn. Bucky barely recognised anyone, until he spotted Becca and Rob encircled by Rob’s family members, laughing and smiling at whatever they were talking about. Becca was wearing her wedding dress again, with her hair pinned up in a plaited crown this time and sparkling earrings hanging from her ears, glinting as they caught the light.

Bucky cut into the circle to say hi and give her a quick squeeze of a hug before he ducked out to find some beer. If he was going to survive this chaos, he needed a drink, or two, and then time to let it settle before he drove home later. He found a quiet table in the shade of a tree at the bottom of the garden and settled down with a beer. It was unseasonably warm for the first weekend in May, approaching the low seventies, and Bucky quickly lost his jacket and opened up the first few buttons of his shirt. The house had been built on old farm land and there were a number of fruit trees that bordered the garden, all of which were in bloom with beautiful blossoms. It would have been a pleasant afternoon, if people hadn’t kept coming over to talk to him.

Bucky gritted his teeth and smiled as charmingly as he could, responding in all the appropriate places with suitably amiable remarks. He wouldn’t have minded if they’d kept the conversation to the topic of Becca and Rob, but all of Rob’s aunts wanted to know when _he_ was planning to settle down, and, oh wasn’t it just a _shame_ that their parents couldn’t be here today – like they’d missed their flight or had another engagement, not that they’d fucking _died_. It was infuriating, and it only got worse when Rob’s cousins and uncles found him.

“You’re Becca’s brother, right? The war hero?”

“What was it like being captured?”

“Did I hear you work in WitSec now? Are you involved in the Wicklow case?”

“Can I see your battle scars?”

Bucky suffered through it without managing to snap or offend any of Rob’s family too much, but he couldn’t deny his relief when Becca finally came over and shooed them all away.

“Sorry I couldn’t come and say hi earlier.” She settled in the chair next to him and handed him a fresh, cold beer.

“No problem. You’re busy. I get it.”

Becca gave a dramatic sigh of agreement. “_So_ busy. I’m so glad we didn’t have all of these people at the actual wedding, I couldn’t’ve coped! There’s so many people to talk to, I feel rushed off my feet.” She drained half of her beer bottle in one long glug that was completely at odds with her dainty, elegant bridal appearance. “Ugh. How are you holding up?”

“I’m okay.”

“Yeah?” She peered at him, not convinced. Bucky had managed to avoid her for most of the past two weeks, and therefore had kept most of his moping to himself. The truth was he missed Steve like hell and it wasn’t getting any easier. “I know you asked me to give you some space to be sad,” she started, and Bucky narrowed his eyes in anticipation of what was coming next. “and that’s fine. But I’m only going to give you another week. Okay?”

“Just, don’t try and set me up with anyone yet, alright? I’m not ready for that.”

“Fine.” Becca readily agreed and just like that the subject was dropped. She could be annoying as hell sometimes, but when it counted, she was undoubtedly the best sister in the world. “We’re going through the photos in a minute, you going to come inside and see them? The resort sent them through last week but Rob and I haven’t looked at them yet; we wanted to save something his parents could share with us for the first time.”

Photos. Yeah, Bucky could do photos. At least that would mean no one was talking about him. “Yeah, I’ll come inside.”

All of the key family members were already huddled around the TV screen in the living room. Becca slipped through to sit beside Rob, front and centre, and Bucky ended up perching on the arm of the sofa next to Rob’s mom.

“Okay, we haven’t seen these yet, either, so I’ve no idea what they look like!” Becca explained as she plugged the USB drive into the TV. “I’m so excited.”

The photos started with shots of Becca and her bridesmaids getting ready, dressed in matching pink ‘I Do Crew’ dressing gowns with Becca’s hair done up in complicated rollers. The quality of the photos was amazing, soft focus on the background, beautifully lit, they looked straight out of a wedding magazine. Becca flicked through her having her make-up done and laughing with her maid of honour as she did up her dress, then there was the one of Bucky was pretending to help Becca with her necklace. It was actually a beautiful photograph, with them both in profile against the white fluttering drapes of the balcony; their family resemblance was impossible to miss.

Bucky felt a hand grasp his knee and looked down to find Rob’s mother smiling up at him with tears in her eyes. “Winnie would have loved to see that.”

Bucky swallowed a lump in his throat and bit back his retort. If his mom had been there to see that, then _she_ would have been the one helping Becca with her necklace, and his dad would have been the one to walk Becca down the aisle, which was the next photo. Followed by one of Rob practically in tears when he saw how beautiful Becca looked in her wedding dress for the first time. Then there were the vows, the exchanging of rings, the happy couple being showered with rose petal confetti frozen in mid-air by the quick shutter speed and good eye of the photographer. Formal photos of the two of them walking hand in hand down the empty beach, gazing adoringly into each other’s eyes beneath a beautiful palm tree (Rob’s family had started to ‘ooh’ and ‘ahh’ like they were at a firework show by that point), the group shot of everyone paddling ankle deep in the waves, followed by the speeches and the toasts. Every single photo was beautifully shot and Becca looked stunning in each and every one. Bucky glanced down at her and became enraptured by her reaction to the photos. She must have sensed him looking because she turned and gave him the biggest, dorkiest grin before focusing back on the TV screen.

Bucky expected the photos of Becca and Rob’s first dance to be the last ones in the gallery, but Becca kept flicking through photos of the guests dancing and partying; he hadn’t realised the photographer had stuck around that late. A faint trace of panic began to swell in his chest. So far, he’d been safe. Becca had been absolutely right to keep Steve from attending the wedding and ending up in any of the photos, so Bucky had nothing to fear. But judging from how dark the sky was behind the groups of people dancing – Steve could turn up in a photo any second and Bucky wasn’t sure he was prepared for that.

Then, there he was, standing at the centre of the dance floor in all of his big, blonde glory. Steve’s face was cracked in a wide smile as he tried to hand jive along with Clint. Bucky’s breath caught in his throat and he might have let out a small whimper. Becca glanced back at him with an anxious expression and hastily flicked through. That didn’t help. He was in the next one too, and the one after that. The photographer had clearly tried to focus on Becca and Rob, but the four of them had spent most of the evening dancing together so Bucky and Steve were right there alongside them, and Clint, and the bridesmaids. Then Becca came to the last shot of the album and couldn’t scroll anymore, leaving the screen frozen on a final image before she could scramble to turn it off: Steve and Bucky with their arms around each other, sharing a look that could only be described as loving. Bucky sat rooted to the spot, the image burned into his retinas even after the screen had gone dark.

“Bucky – ” Becca tried, and the sound of her voice broke the spell. Bucky shot to his feet and pushed his way out into the garden, hurrying towards the side gate. He didn’t know where he was going, only that he needed to get away.

“Bucky!” It was Rob. He cornered Bucky on the driveway, having clearly used the quicker route from the front door. “Are you okay? We didn’t know…”

“I’m fine.” Bucky forced a smile and tried to push passed, but Rob stepped to block him.

“Look, I don’t know what happened between you and Steve, and Becca told me not to bug you about it. But…whatever you need – we’re here for you, alright?”

“Thanks, Rob.” Bucky made a second attempt to sidestep him and this time managed to slip around him.

“Can’t you just call him?” Rob shouted after Bucky.

Bucky screwed his eyes shut and willed himself to stay calm. Rob was only trying to help, in his own, misguided way. “No. I can’t.”

“But he was clearly in love with you, I bet he’s just as miserable as you are!”

Bucky chocked back a sob and fled to his truck. He wasn’t sober enough, or in the right headspace, to drive, but there was no way he was going back inside to the party. He climbed up in the driver’s seat and slammed his hand a couple of times on the steering wheel to vent his frustration. Which only succeeded in jarring his hand and making him feel even more miserable. He slumped sideways along the bench and let his hand fall across his face.

Couldn’t he just call Steve? No Rob, he couldn’t just fucking call Steve because Steve had made it crystal clear that he never wanted to hear from Bucky again. He couldn’t call Steve because Steve had made him delete his fucking number. And if Steve was so _clearly_ in love with him, then why couldn’t he have said that? Then why was he so insistent that they couldn’t ever be together?

Bucky sighed long and hard, and forced himself to focus on his breathing. He’d already wasted enough tears, futilely crying over a situation he couldn’t control. The worst thing was, he couldn’t be sure that Rob wasn’t right. Steve had insisted he wouldn’t change his mind, but what if he had? What if he was just as miserable as Bucky?

Bucky had thought about calling Sam – assuming his number hadn’t changed in the years since they’d spoken – and asking him how Steve was doing. But apart from sending holiday cards to each other every year, they hadn’t really talked in years, and Bucky’s pride wouldn’t let him take the hit and call. Or even ask Becca to call for him; which she would do. In a heartbeat.

Instead, Bucky found himself unlocking his phone and opening up the CAPITAL Designs webpage, that he’d frequented so often in the past few days that google had helpfully added to list of suggested options on his homepage. Steve’s face smiled at him from a professional headshot on their ‘Meet Our Team’ page, with a blurred corporate office behind him. His arms were folded across his chest and his torso was angled away from the camera, in an attempt to make it look more casual, Bucky supposed. Steve’s shirt was a light blue that beautifully complemented his eyes and made him look far too handsome for some dumb corporate profile picture. His professional biography was summarised on the page next to his photo, listing his company’s accolades and Steve’s personal achievements; apparently, he’d been featured in Forbes and the Washington Post a couple of times. Bucky hadn’t stooped low enough to find and read those articles yet, but he had hovered over the contact details listed at the bottom of the page. He closed the tab before he could anything stupid and thumbed through to his photo gallery instead, scrolling back through the holiday photos he hadn’t been able to look at since that last morning on the island.

God. Bucky’s heart cracked as photo after photo of Steve’s smiling face filled his screen. He was still so in love with Steve, and he didn’t even know how to begin to move past it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 💙💙💙💙💙💙💙
> 
> Check back on Wedesday 3rd June for Chapter 40! (most likely posted after 7pm GMT)


	40. Bucky

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're in the homestretch! Thank you all so much for your comments 💙💙💙💙 they really make my day!

**~ 4 Months Later ~**

Bucky woke to an insistent knocking on his front door. He cracked an eye and lay still on his couch for a moment, waiting to see if it would just go away. It didn’t. Grumpy and annoyed, he pushed himself to his feet and staggered halfway to the front door when the lock clicked open and Becca let herself in.

“If you had a key, why the hell did you have to knock so loudly?” He grumbled. Without waiting to hear her answer, or even question what she was doing in his apartment, Bucky stomped back to the sofa to slouch against the cushions. He noticed that Netflix had given up playing endless episodes of _Avatar: The Last Airbender_ and was frozen on a screen asking if he was ‘still watching?’. “I would’ve been if you hadn’t stopped playing it.” He muttered and switched the TV off.

“I picked up your mail from downstairs.” Becca told him cheerily. “And I brought you some groceries.” She dumped everything on the kitchen table behind him before starting to move around the kitchen, packing it all away. Bucky watched her, sullenly, for a moment before dragging himself off the couch to go and help.

“What are you doing here, Becs? I’m fine.”

“Well, that’s not what Daisy says.”

That pulled Bucky up short. “How the hell do you know Daisy?” Presuming she meant his colleague, Daisy Johnson, one of the few people at work he’d probably consider a friend. She’d been on the job for a less than a year but was already giving him a run for his money.

“She’s goes to my Zumba Kickboxing class on Thursday mornings.”

“Since when do you do Zumba Kickboxing?” Bucky asked, sceptically, wondering what the hell that even was.

“Since a few weeks ago.” Becca smiled breezily.

“Are you stalking my work colleagues to check up on me?” Bucky was flabbergasted.

“No? Are you serious? It’s a new class they started running a few weeks ago, I checked it out, so did she. God, Bucky. Not everything revolves around you, you know.”

“Sorry.” He mumbled and shoved some orange juice in his fridge. Although he hated to admit it, it had been a few weeks since he’d done a proper grocery run and his supplies were running low.

“But we got to talking, and,” Becca shrugged and reached up to poke some pasta onto the top shelf of Bucky’s cupboard. “She says you’ve been really distant at work recently, and you’ve taken a few days of sick-leave recently. She asked _me_ how you were doing and I realised I hadn’t actually spoken to you in a few weeks and I didn’t know.”

“Yeah, because married life is clearly really time consuming and you’ve got all your other married friends to spend time with now, so why would bother to check on little old me?” Bucky said far more bitterly than he intended to.

“Hey, now that’s not fair. You’re the one that’s been miserable for months and shut me and Rob out, Bucky. You did that. Not us.” She snapped back. For a minute they stared heatedly at each other, until Bucky dropped his head placed a tin of chopped tomatoes gently on the counter with a sigh.

“I’m sorry.” He relented.

“So am I.” Becca’s anger deflated from her too. “I should have pushed more. You asked me to give you space, so I did – but I shouldn’t have let you get so cut off from us. I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault.” Bucky shrugged. He felt guilty for having shut Becca out for months, and he’d never admit it, but he felt a sharp jab of jealousy every time he saw her and Rob so happy and in love. It just reminded him of everything he’d never have for himself.

“I can’t understand what you’re going through, Bucky, I don’t know how difficult it is to have to get over someone like that – but it’s been _months_ now, don’t you think you should be moving on?”

“I’m trying, Becs. I really am.” Bucky said.

“Really?” Becca glanced around at Bucky’s slovenly mess of an apartment. Last night’s take-out boxes were stacked haphazardly on the coffee table along with more than few empty beer bottles. He hadn’t showered today and he was clearly hungover. Bucky had to admit he didn’t _look_ like someone who was well adjusted and moving on with his life.

“This isn’t all about him, okay. Not everything revolves around Steve.” Bucky threw Becca’s own words back at her, even if it wasn’t true. “I had a bad date yesterday – I’m allowed to be miserable about other things.”

“You had a date?” Becca’s eyes lit up. “You didn’t tell me you had a date!”

It had been a hook-up really. Or well, it’d _hadn’t_ been anything. The guy had turned out to be exactly the wrong sort of blonde and beefy; a bad dye job, and steroid stacked muscles, who wouldn’t stop harping on about his gym routine and his macros. Even after three dry martinis, Bucky hadn’t been able to convince himself to go home with the guy.

“How did it go?”

“I told you. It went badly.”

It wasn’t the first failed hook-up Bucky had tried since coming back from the resort. The emotional crisis he’d suffered after Becca’s second wedding had shocked Bucky out of the first stage of his moping and spurred him into looking for a rebound to help him move on. So far that had failed spectacularly. He’d met plenty of good-looking guys in bars who were charming and intelligent and lovely in their own right; but the problem was they just weren’t Steve. And the longer Bucky spent chatting and trying to flirt with them, the move he realised he didn’t want anyone else. He tried so hard to be open minded, he even went on a second date with a guy named Frank, an ex-marine he’d he trounced at pool in a dive bar and end up going home with, but they’d amicably agreed it wasn’t going anywhere.

Steve might have needed time to figure who he was and what he wanted. But Bucky didn’t.

“Come here.” Becca opened her arms to hug him and Bucky reluctantly let her wrap him in an embrace. Thankfully she kept it short and sweet, before ruffling his hair and pushing a jumbo bag of puy lentils into his arms.

“The fuck are these? I don’t know how to cook these.”

“You’ll figure it out; they’re good for you.”

“Sure. Thanks. Whatever.” Bucky decided he couldn’t really be mad, seeing as he had done a whole shop for him.

“Is it…” Becca paused and then tried again. “Do you think…maybe…”

“Out with it, whatever you’re trying to say.”

Becca sucked in a breath and braced herself. “Should you maybe call your therapist again? I know a break-up’s not really the same as grief, but –”

“I have.” Bucky put Becca out of her misery and cut her off before she could start rambling and wind up accidentally offending him.

“Really?”

“Yeah. Every other week. The sick days…” He gestured loosely.

“Is it helping?”

“I guess?” Bucky shrugged. He’d put it off for ages, feeling ridiculous for needing therapy after a fling, but as soon as he noticed himself slipping back into the depressive tendencies he’d picked up after his injury, Bucky hadn’t wasted a minute in picking up the phone and making the call. And, actually, the sessions had been really helpful in helping him process everything. Still didn’t stop him from missing Steve, though.

“I’m glad.” Becca gave him a beaming smile and went back to unloading the shopping.

They packed the rest of the groceries away in silence and Bucky offered to make a pot of coffee (and open up the fancy chocolate cookies she’d bought him) as a thank you. Bucky should have realised Becca’s quiet was nothing more than the calm before a storm; a lull whilst she planned her renewed approach at whatever it was she really wanted to say. After Bucky has tidied up the coffee table and plumped the couch cushions back up for her to sit on, she levelled him with a stare that told Bucky he wasn’t out of the woods yet.

“Do you know _why_ Daisy told me you were being distant at work?”

“Probably because I am?” Bucky admitted.

“No, I mean, how it came up?”

Bucky shrugged.

“She told me that I must have been proud of you for getting promoted, and didn’t understand why you seemed so miserable, given you’d just been offered your dream job.”

Bucky tensed, finally caught in the lie by omission he’d been keeping from Becca for the last couple of weeks. The one he’d even been keeping from his therapist.

“And she asked me if I was going to miss you when you moved away.” Becca took a long sip of coffee to let that statement settle, and then fixed Bucky with an arched eyebrow so reminiscent of his mom, that Bucky feared for a moment that he was going to be grounded. “So, my question is; what promotion is she talking about?”

“It’s not fixed yet, I have to be interviewed for it first.” Bucky tried to deflect.

“She made it sound like a done deal?”

“Well, it’s not.” The offer letter was still sitting on Bucky’s desk, un-replied to.

“So, when’s the interview?”

Bucky tipped his head back and sighed. “3rd of September.”

“That’s,” Becca double-checked the calendar her phone. “Bucky, that’s next week.”

“I know. And it’s in New York.”

Bucky kept his eyes fixed on the ceiling as he heard Becca’s mug clatter onto the coffee table.

“It’s for the New York role? The supervisor job that you always wanted?”

“Yep.” Bucky popped the ‘p’ and continued to stare resolutely not at Becca.

“Bucky! That’s amazing!”

He shrugged. “I’m not going to go.”

“Why the hell not? That’s what you always wanted! That’s why you did your degree in New York and did all of your placements there in the first place!”

Bucky knew all of that. His move back to Indiana had only meant to be temporary. He’d struggled with being so far from Becca during the last year of his degree and his therapist had thought moving closer to family whilst he dealt with the last of his trauma would help him recover faster. It certainly helped him deal with the guilt of abandoning Becca to look after their mom on her own whilst he went off to play soldier in the desert. But he’d always dreamed of moving back to Brooklyn one day.

“If it’s because of me…” Becca whispered softly, like she could read him mind.

“No, no, Becs, it’s not that.” Bucky was quick to reassure her.

“Because you know I’ll miss you. But I won’t ever hold you back.”

“I know that.”

“Then what? You said you loved New York when you lived there before?”

Bucky exhaled slowly as he tried to phrase his answer. There was no way to say it that didn’t sound stupid, which probably meant that it _was_ stupid. He fiddled with the collar of his t-shirt. “It’s…just that…_he_ might be there.”

Becca’s eyes narrowed but the rest of her face was schooled carefully, like she was trying very hard not to judge him. “Who?”

Bucky swallowed and tried to find his voice. “…Steve.”

Becca took a moment to absorb the stupidity of that. “I thought you said he lived in DC?”

“He did. But he was planning to open an office in New York.” Bucky didn’t mention that he knew Steve was definitely opening an office, because he’d set up a google alert for Steve’s company and had been following the news closely. The grand opening was set for the last week in September.

“I don’t want to call you an idiot, because you’re hurting, and I understand that…but you’re an idiot.”

“I know.” He moaned.

“How many people live in New York? With tourists there’s what – 50 million? – people in that city on any given day?”

“Probably.”

“So, the odds of you bumping into one man – who may or may not even be there! – are slim to none.” Becca told him.

“I know.” But there was still a chance, however small, and Bucky didn’t think he could cope with that.

“You can’t turn down your dream job because of someone who broke your heart on holiday, Bucky.”

“Why not?” He muttered petulantly.

“Because!” Becca snapped, and then softened. “This was the first goal you had since coming home, Bucky. Do you really think Steve would want you to give up on that – because of him?”

“Clearly, I have no idea what Steve wants.”

“Bucky.”

“Fine. No.” Even if he’d fundamentally mis-read Steve’s feelings for him, Bucky knew Steve would be horrified if Bucky had given up this job opportunity because of him. After all, Bucky had applied for the transfer months before he’d met Steve; he’d almost given up on hearing back from them, but he should have known the it would be a bureaucratic nightmare and that internal matters always moved at a glacial pace.

“At least go to the interview? If you hate it, you hate it. But at least you’ll know. Otherwise you’ll live to regret this Bucky. I’ll make sure of that.” She added with a cheeky smile.

Bucky shook his head and found himself smiling back.

“You could even make a weekend of it, you said Clint was keen for you to go and visit him again. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind having you. Stay for Labor Day. Make it a thing, then it’s not just about the interview, and definitely not about Steve.”

“Yeah, maybe.” Becca was definitely the smart sibling. Always had been.

“I don’t mean to nag you, and it’s your life – you can do what you want.” Becca sounded very sincere all of a sudden. “I just hate seeing you upset. And I know this job won’t fix everything, but following it up can’t make things any worse, can it?”

=

Clint’s apartment was exactly the same as it always had been, cramped but homely, clean and vaguely tidy, but in a disorganised, haphazard sort of way. Bucky had always felt right at home there, and it was with a huge sigh of relief that he stepped through the front door.

“How’d it go?” Clint twisted his head over the back of the couch to greet Bucky.

Bucky let the door fall closed behind him and stood in the doorway for a moment letting a day’s worth of adrenaline drain from him. “It went.”

“That bad, huh?”

“No, just…” Completely not what Bucky had been expecting. For one thing, it had taken far longer then he’d ever imagined, and for another, it had been more of an induction than an interview. Apparently, he’d been given a glowing recommendation from the Indiana office, and they couldn’t wait for him to start! Bucky had panicked and managed to delay giving them an answer until the following Wednesday. He was torn. It might have been the job he’d originally wanted (at least after the lady in the army careers service had suggested it to him), it was in New York, the city he’d always wanted to live in, and all of the potential co-workers he’d been introduced to during the interview-orientation-thing seemed lovely. But, it was 700 miles away from Becca. Not to mention the prospect of bumping into Steve on the subway set him on edge. “I don’t know if I want to accept it.” He admitted, taking the few short steps over to the sofa and slumping into it beside Clint.

“Worry about that after they’ve made you an offer.” Clint laughed.

“They did.” Bucky tipped his head back against the sofa cushions as he toed-off his shoes.

“Right there in the room? Way to go, Barnes! What did you say?”

“That I’d think about it.”

“So, what you’re saying is, that I’ve got a whole weekend to convince you to move back to the city?” Clint grinned.

“Guess so.”

“Then why are we wasting time indoors! Let’s go paint the town red!” Clint leapt to his feet.

Bucky just gave a tired groan. Who even spoke like that anymore? Not to mention, he was emotionally and physically drained after a full day of interviews. “I’d really rather not.”

“Okay, well, we still need to celebrate. Pizzas, beer and Mario Kart?” Clint offered, crossing the room to the kitchenette fenced off by a breakfast bar and pulling two beers from the fridge before Bucky could answer.

“Sounds good.”

“And _tomorrow_,” Clint passed Bucky a cold beer and fished the Wii remotes from under the TV stand.

“Aren’t you working tomorrow?”

“Oh yeah. Saturday, then. _Saturday_ we’ll –”

“Paint the town red?” Bucky gave a reluctant smile.

“Yeah! Or, at least, a nice, mauve colour.” Clint dropped a remote in Bucky’s lap and dropped himself into the cushion beside him. “We’re getting old.”

“Speak for yourself.” Bucky protested.

“You’re older than me.” Clint jabbed Bucky in the ribs with the remote.

“Hardly.” Bucky jabbed him right back.

Clint laughed and loaded he game, setting up a random 8-course cup for them with frantic items. “You know you’ve always got a place here, right? If you do take the job and need someplace to stay?” Clint gave Bucky a sidelong glance and a lopsided smile as he clicked through the options. 

“I can’t crash on your couch indefinitely, Barton.”

“No.” Clint looked suddenly sheepish. He dipped his head and scratched absently at the nape of his neck; his nervous tick. “But…y’know, Nat doesn’t really use her room anymore. She might need to steal some storage space from you, but if you needed a place for a month or so, until you got settled. I’m sure we could manage.”

Bucky arched an eyebrow. He thought he’d noticed a fair amount of chemistry between Natasha and Clint when he’d been introduced to her. Actually, his first thought had been _‘just friends, my ass’_, when Clint had let him in to the apartment yesterday evening. Bucky had caught a flight from Indianapolis after work and by the time he’d navigated the trains and subway out to Clint’s place in Brooklyn it was nearly 1am. Nat had been sprawled on the sofa in a pair of men’s boxer shorts and a tank top, her striking red hair piled into a messy bun on top of her head. She’d greeted him warmly and helped Bucky set up the sofa with spare sheets and pillows whilst Clint made him a peanut butter sandwich to take the edge off Bucky’s travel-hunger. Bucky hadn’t meant to pry, but he’d noticed Nat give Clint a kiss on the cheek and a slap on the ass before she disappeared off to bed.

“Is that right?” Bucky asked, keeping his brow arched and his expression otherwise perfectly neutral. “What happened to being ‘just friends’? Thought you said it was _so much better_ than sleeping with someone.”

Clint’s ears burned bright red, but when he answered it was with his usual confident lilt. “We figured out we could combine the two.” He leant into Bucky’s shoulder, giving him a harder than necessary nudge. “Well, she did. Apparently, I’m what you call a ‘clueless-oblivious-twit’.” He laughed. “Her words. Actually, she said something in Russian that was probably a lot more eloquent and far more insulting, before she translated for my benefit.”

Bucky laughed at that.

“So, if you need a room, we can make one free for you.”

Bucky managed to stop laughing long enough to offer his sincere gratitude for that. “Thank you. Seriously, that’s…that helps.”

“Good. Now, I hope me kicking your ass on the rainbow road isn’t going to put you off moving here.”

“Excuse me? I’d like to see you try.”

It was like old times. The years since Bucky’s time at college fell away and the pair of them reverted to children, getting overly competitive and trying to sabotage each other with elbow jabs and bad jokes. When Clint’s racer got hit with a blue-shell over a canyon and lost his lead to Bucky, on the final lap of a race he’d been winning since the start, Clint yanked the controller from Bucky’s hands and threw it clean across the room. Bucky retaliated by pushing Clint off the sofa and by the time Natasha came home from work, the pair of them were wrestling on the floor like schoolboys.

<<Переста́нь вести́ себя́ как ребяти́шки>>. _(“Quit acting like children.”) _Natasha muttered as she stepped around them. Bucky didn’t need to know any Russian to tell from her tone that she was scolding them.

“Truce?” Bucky offered Clint, loosening the headlock he had him in.

“Only ‘cause you know I won.”

Bucky snorted, but het let it slide and hauled Clint to his feet.

They ordered an inordinate amount of pizza and laughed themselves silly as they mocked cheesy eighties movies; staying up far later than was probably sensible, considering Clint had work the next day. It was nice, really nice, and it was only by comparison that Bucky realised how miserable and hollow he’d been feeling for the past few months. The last few years really. He’d never meant to stay in Shelbyville for an extended period of time. By the time they switched the TV off and started tidying up the living room so that Bucky could remake his bed on the couch, he’d pretty much made up his mind to accept the job and stay in New York.

=

Bucky was woken by Clint clattering around in the kitchen the next morning, apologising far too loudly in a way that told Bucky he hadn’t bothered to put his hearing aids in yet. Bucky stuffed his head back under the pillow aiming to fall back asleep, but the alluring smell of coffee was too tempting to ignore, so he rolled off the couch and staggered to the breakfast bar to accept a freshly brewed cup. Clint gulped down a mugful and practically inhaled a bowl of cereal before he raced back to the bedroom, appearing a few moments later in a scruffy suit, shirt untucked, tie hanging wonky with mis-matched socks on his feet. He was tucking his hearing aids behind his ears as he walked.

“What time do you finish?” Bucky asked.

“Uh late. If you get hungry don’t wait for me to eat. I think Nat’s working late tonight too. Sorry to abandon you all day.”

“It’s fine.” Bucky assured him. He was a former roommate, not a guest and he didn’t expect to be treated like one. “I can sort myself out.”

“Awesome.” Clint began to hastily stack his cup and bowl in the sink, then noticed the cereal box, loose cereal and coffee grounds he’d left scattered all over the worktops, along with splodges of milk. It was clear he was already running late.

“I’ve got it.” After drinking his coffee at a much more normal pace, Bucky was beginning to feel more awake.

“Thanks, ‘cause I’m gonna be _so_ late.” It was barely 8am, but Bucky knew one of Clint’s jobs was with a security firm all the way uptown.

“G’on, go. I’ve got it.” Bucky ushered Clint out of the door. “See you later.”

“You’re the best, Barnes!” Clint threw back over his shoulder.

Clint slammed the door behind him and a quiet calm descended over the apartment again. Bucky made himself a bowl of cereal and turned the TV on a low volume to avoid waking Natasha who Bucky assumed was still sleeping. He took his time cleaning up the kitchen, giving the counters and stove top and deep clean for good measure, as he plotted out what he wanted to do with his day. Clint would probably want to use him as an excuse to do all the touristy shit he still loved doing, like seeing Times Square and the Statue of Liberty – like he hadn’t seen them both a thousand times already – so Bucky decided he’d spend his day wandering around Brooklyn, seeing which of his favourite haunts from three years ago were still around, and which had been gentrified into something else.

Natasha emerged (from Clint’s room) at ten am, dressed like an off-duty ballet dancer in yoga pants and an off the shoulder sweater. She wished Bucky a good morning, told him the same thing Clint had about working late and apologised for leaving him to his own devices all day, before she extracted a pre-prepared lunch and smoothie from the fridge and breezed out of the apartment; all in less than five minutes. Bucky was left a little bewildered by the whole thing, if he was being honest with himself.

Bucky showered and changed into a pair of comfy jeans and a sweater, forgetting that New York was bound to be a few degrees warmer than Shelbyville at the same time of year. He did at least remember to don his sunglasses and fished the spare key from its usual spot in the cutlery drawer before heading out.

Brooklyn was much the same as it had been when he left. The trees that lined Clint’s street of uniform brownstone buildings were just beginning to turn golden, but most of them were still a leafy green, and the clear blue skies and the lingering humidity made it clear that summer was clinging on a little longer. Bucky let his feet walk him through the familiar streets he’d once called home and tried to imagine himself living here again; it wasn’t hard to do. The convenience store and liquor store still stood side by side at the end of the street, and it looked like a few more coffee shops had opened up as he crossed over onto Dean Street, pleased to find his favourite deli was still going strong. It was a little early for lunch, but Bucky wasn’t going to deprive himself of the greatest sandwich he’d ever eaten. He’d tried remaking it himself but there must have a secret ingredient, because it never tasted right at home or from any other deli. He planned to pick one up and head over to Prospect Park, aiming to lose himself in the trails around the lake for a few hours.

He ordered himself a hallowed pastrami on rye, extra mustard, and waited at the other end of the counter, practically drooling already as he watched it being made. Bucky was so caught up in the anticipation of his sandwich, that he didn’t pay attention to anyone else coming and going from the shop. That was until a very, very familiar voice ordered exactly the same behind him.

Bucky would know that voice anywhere, but in the months since he’d last heard it, he’d forgotten just how deep and just how pleasing the velvet timbre of that voice was. He glanced up and gaped before he could stop himself; finding himself face-to-face with the one person he’d been desperately longing to see for four months, and had simultaneously been hoping he could avoid.

“Bucky?” Steve gaped right back.

He’d grown a beard, and his hair was a little longer, but just as blonde – looking even more so against the darker honey and burnt-sugar colour of the neatly trimmed scruff that covered his jaw. He must have been painting or decorating, or something, because he was wearing a pair of well-worn jeans splattered with dabs and streaks of paint, and a thin white t-shirt that hugged his chest and shoulders beautifully. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair. It was so fucking unfair of the universe to dangle him in front of Bucky – looking like _that_ no less.

“Hi Steve.” Bucky manged to reply in a small voice, proud of himself for not bursting into tears on the spot. All of his resolve, all of his feigned strength, all the lies that he’d told himself about not wanting Steve, about not needing him in his life, vanished the second he saw him.

“Oh my god, _Bucky_.” And with two long strides, Steve closed the gap between them, pulling Bucky into a bruising hug and clinging to him tight.

Bucky’s fraught hold over his emotions couldn’t cope with that and he melted into the warmth of Steve’s embrace, letting out a choked sob as he pressed his face against Steve’s shoulder. He’d worry about the meaning of the hug later, he’d worry about everything later; just then, Bucky let himself bask in the delight of being held by Steve again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reunited at last 😊😊 Check back on Saturday 6th June for Chapter 41!
> 
> =
> 
> I know there's a lot happening in the world at the moment, I'm not going to stop updating this because we all need a nice distraction sometimes, but do make sure you check out ways you can help if you're able to.  
[https://blacklivesmatters.carrd.co](https://blacklivesmatters.carrd.co/#)


	41. Steve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Reunion - Part One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're nearly past the angst! Once again, thank you so much for your comments!!! 💙💙💙

Steve pushed the last few strokes of the roller across the wall, covering over the last patch of old paint with primer. He propped the roller carefully into the drip tray and stepped back to survey his work. The walls would need another coat of primer before he could actually paint them, but the room already looked so much brighter than it had with the drab olive green the previous owners had favoured. He planned to leave it white, like most of the other rooms in the house, to maximise the light and contrast nicely with the wood panelling around the windows and doors that he’d had restored. Steve had been busy renovating the place since he’d bought it a couple of months ago; a four-storey brownstone a stone’s throw from where he’d grown up, which he was incredibly proud to own. It was a much nicer place than he’d been expecting to be able to afford (even after he’d sold half of his company to Brandt for far more than he thought it was worth), but it had needed an awful lot of modernising. 

Working on it had been the perfect distraction for his weekends in New York in between the organisational nightmare that was involved with opening up a brand-new office and recruiting a team he trusted to staff it. He’d just finished re-fitting the whole kitchen, re-painted practically the entire house, and had plans to re-fit both bathrooms. So far, he’d furnished about half of the place, taking the time to outfit it exactly the way he wanted to; and finally, the place was starting to feel like home. Almost. Something was still missing, but Steve figured he’d find out what that was eventually.

He packed up the tins of primer and carried the brushes downstairs to clean them in the kitchen sink. The primer would need about three hours to fully dry before he could start on a second coat, giving him time to start assembling the dining table and chairs which had been sitting boxed up in the dining room for weeks. Before any of that though, he needed to eat. Steve’s stomach gave a rumble on cue, reminding him that he was famished. Until he’d started renovating, he’d never realised how much of a work out painting could be. He left the paintbrushes drying beside the sink and opened the fridge to check what he had available, but unless he wanted to break into the barbeque supplies that were intended for tomorrow, he didn’t really have anything he fancied.

Steve ducked his head to peer up at the sky through the kitchen window that overlooked a small yard, dragging his hand across his beard as he considered his options. The beard was a new development. Peggy had always bristled at him whenever his stubble grew beyond a five o’clock shadow, teasing him that she liked to see his face, so Steve had become used to going clean shaven. But now, with no one around to care about his appearance, Steve decided to let it grow, surprised to find it grew in thick and a few shades darker than his hair; surprised further still that he actually liked it.

It looked bright and warm out, and Steve decided to take the opportunity to stretch his legs before he spent a full afternoon deciphering Ikea instructions and inhaling more paint fumes. His favourite deli was just a few blocks away, so he didn’t bother to grab a jacket; he just pocketed his wallet and keys, not even bothering to check if he had any paint in his hair. It wasn’t like he was going to meet anymore. Wasn’t like he wanted to.

It had only taken a couple of weeks for Steve to realise he’d been the biggest idiot in the world. He’d felt more alive with Bucky than he had at any other time in his life and he never should have let that go; he should have grabbed onto it with both hands and held on tight. Instead he’d hurt Bucky, irrevocably. Steve missed him like hell, missed him far more than ever missed Peggy, and, even four months later, Steve ached every time he woke without Bucky’s limbs wrapped around his. He missed Bucky’s bright smile and their easy conversation. He missed all of Bucky’s tactile touches and the intimate domesticity they’d shared. He missed the way Bucky had made him feel. Even though they hadn’t really known each other that well; it was like their souls had meshed, and Steve knew now that if he’d only given them the chance, they would have been able to work through whatever life had thrown at them.

But he hadn’t allowed them that chance, and although he’d almost asked Sam for Bucky’s number, so many times, Steve couldn’t bring himself to. He felt hindered by his shame and guilt, certain that Bucky would never forgive him, and scared of facing that kind of rejection. His only solace was the hope that Bucky had happily moved on and found someone who wasn’t half the idiot Steve had been. Someone who’d realised how rare and wonderful Bucky was and who would move heaven and earth to be with him; like Steve should have done.

Sam might have criticised Steve for letting his dedication to renovate the house verge on ‘manic’, and chided him from running away from his feelings, but he didn’t realise that the distraction was the only thing keeping Steve going. If Steve stopped for too long and let his thoughts wander, he invariably ended up overwhelmed by regret for everything he’d let slip through his fingers. Even as he hurried down the street towards the deli, Steve felt his thoughts straying. He hadn’t forgotten that Bucky had once loved this deli too, and no matter how much disappointment it would bring later, whenever he passed within a block of the shop, Steve couldn’t help but entertain the idea that he might cross paths with Bucky again, purely by chance. He was fairly certain he’d crossed paths with Clint, or at least someone who looked an awful lot like him, on the subway a few times. It wasn’t beyond the bounds of reason that Bucky might materialise in this neighbourhood one day, Steve told himself, trying to rationalise the completely irrational fantasy. But as helpless as he was to put an end to the daydreams, Steve never let his imagination stray beyond spotting Bucky on the street or the subway; he never went as far as letting himself dwell on everything he’d want to say to him should they ever cross paths; he never seriously expected it to happen.

In fact, when Steve stepped into the deli and placed his order, and felt someone staring at him, he was pretty sure he’d lost his mind and that his sorrow had taken a new turn and started to manifest in full blown hallucinations.

Bucky was standing less than five feet from him. In the flesh. Bucky. In a dark blue sweater and slim fitting jeans, with sunglasses pushed up into his head and look of disbelief etched onto his face.

“Bucky?” Steve stared, quite unable to believe his eyes.

“Hi Steve.” Bucky gave a pinched smile, like he was trying very hard not to fall apart. Steve knew in that moment that Bucky was still suffering just as much as he was.

“Oh my god, _Bucky_.” Steve didn’t stop to think about whether it was a good idea, all he knew that if he didn’t have Bucky in his arms in the very next moment he might actually die; or at least that’s how it felt. He closed the space between them and pulled Bucky close. Bucky melted against him, instantly burying his face against Steve’s shoulder and clinging back just as tight as Steve was. They hugged fiercely, and for longer than could be deemed normal. Neither of them said anything. For his part, Steve didn’t know what could be said, where to even start saying it.

“Order for Barnes!” Came the call from behind the counter, finally breaking the spell.

Bucky pulled back and kept his eyes averted from Steve as he stepped up to the counter to fetch his sandwich.

“Are you really here?” Steve’s mouth moved before his brain could realise it was a stupid question to ask.

“Why, you been dreaming about me, Rogers?” Bucky laughed, but there was no joy in his expression.

Steve couldn’t answer. ‘_Yes’_ didn’t seem like an appropriate, or fair thing to say.

“Yeah. I’m really here.” Bucky said. “I’m staying with Clint for the weekend. I was, uh, actually trying to avoid running into you.” Bucky adding, scrunching his face up into an unreadable expression. And gosh, didn’t that hurt to hear, although Steve supposed he couldn’t blame Bucky for not wanting to cross paths.

“Order for Steve!”

Steve hurried to collect his sandwich, hoping that Bucky wouldn’t vanish before they could talk. Thankfully Bucky was waiting by the door for him. He held it open for Steve and they stepped through it together, leaving them standing awkwardly beside each other on the sidewalk.

“I missed you so much –” Steve started to say at the same time as Bucky started to ask, “How have you been –?” Their voices clashed as they spoke over one another, neither of them hearing what the other had been trying to say. 

“You, go,” Bucky fell silent and gestured for Steve to speak.

“Um.” Steve faltered, losing his confidence. “Are you busy?” He dipped his head and looked up at Bucky through his eyelashes. “I only live a couple of blocks from here, do want to come back and…eat lunch?” He gestured with his sandwich.

“I was gonna head to the park.” Bucky answered, he looked uncertain, and because he didn’t immediately take the opportunity to brush Steve off and leave, Steve took that as an invitation.

“Okay, yeah. Let me, uh, swing by my place and grab a jacket? It's colder out then I was expecting. It’s on the way.” Steve assured Bucky.

Bucky hesitated for a moment before nodding and gesturing at the sidewalk. “Lead on.”

Hope swelled in Steve’s chest as they fell into step beside each other. Steve kept stealing glances at Bucky, double checking to make sure that he was still there. It seemed almost too good to be true. He looked good. Clean shaven again, hair styled in the same neat wave across his forehead. Apart from the slightly haunted look in his eyes, he looked exactly as Steve had remembered. Steve began to wish that he’d let himself mull on what he would say if he ever built up the courage to speak to Bucky again, because there were so many things vying to be said, so many complex emotions Steve hadn’t begun to unravel. He needed to tell Bucky how he felt, he needed to ask Bucky to forgive him – if such a thing were possible. But Steve couldn’t figure out where to start.

Before he got the chance to say anything, Bucky broke the silence.

“How's Sam?” Bucky asked. He took to walking right along the edge of the sidewalk, balancing on the curb stone like he was a tightrope walker.

“He's good.” Steve answered readily, relieved Bucky had picked a relatively safe topic of conversation of them as it gave him a little while longer to figure out everything he wanted to say. “He and Riley are visiting this weekend, actually. Did you ever meet Riley?”

“No. But I heard a lot about him.” Bucky looked up at Steve, curious for a second. “Why aren't you eating lunch with them?”

“They're in Manhattan, being tourists and…” Steve waved his hand, “_couple-y_. Didn't want to get in their way. I think they were going up the Rock today.”

Bucky nodded and then stayed silent.

“Where's Clint?” Steve ventured. He’d noticed that Bucky had only bought one sandwich so it was safe assume they didn’t have lunch plans together.

“Working. We've got plans tomorrow.”

Now it was Steve's turn to nod. An awkwardness hung in the air between them, silting their usual easy conversation. Steve wished there was something he could do to fix everything and get back to how it had been between them at the resort, but he didn't know if things could ever be that way again.

“I hear you’re opening an office in the city?” Bucky asked after a while. His bright and casual tone sounded a little forced.

“Yeah. End of the month.”

“Got everything ready?”

“Most things.” Steve nodded. “Just the little finishing touches to go, like making sure we have internet and the phones connected before we open, choosing what coffee machines to buy for the break out areas, you know?” He shrugged.

“Don't you have people to do that for you?”

“Usually,” Steve allowed. “But I haven't found my office manager yet. The person I wanted for the job wasn't willing to leave DC, which is fair enough. So, I've got some fun call back interviews lined up for next week.” By which he meant completely _not_ fun; he hated conducting interviews.

Bucky smiled a little a that. “Like any of them?”

“A couple. It's tricky finding someone who shares the company ethos. Advertising is usually so cutthroat, but I don't ever want that for my business.”

Bucky hummed.

Silence fell between them again and Steve didn't strive to fill it with nonsense, just continued down the road, passing under leafy trees that cast dappled sunlight on the sidewalk. Steve lifted his head to the sky and stared up through the leafy canopy were walking beneath. He’d always loved how many trees lined the streets of this neighbourhood, and the uniform brownstones that filled it; all similar, but defined by their own characteristics. He still felt so relieved at being back, and the prospect of being back permanently hadn’t hit him yet. Even opening the office still felt like a distant reality. He’d been busy putting things in motion for months, but sometimes it was still hard to believe it was really happening. That his life had really taken such a u-turn in the past five months.

“This one’s mine.” Steve gestured to his building which had a wide flight of steps leading up to the front door and his bike chained up against the railing inside the small fenced off area in front of the ground floor windows.

“Nice building.” Bucky appraised before following Steve up the steps to the front door. “How much of it is yours?”

“Um,” Steve dipped his head and flushed. “All of it?”

Bucky whistled. “I forgot you were super rich. Even more so, now you sold your company, right?”

“Not super rich.” Steve protested as he wrestled with the key in the lock the held the front door open for Bucky. “Just comfortable. Well, _un_comfortable really. There's a few more digits in my bank balance then I really need.”

“I'll happily spend them for you.” Bucky grinned as he stepped into the entrance hall. For a moment, things almost felt like normal, until Bucky second guessed his confidence and became very interested in the staircase instead. “How many floors?”

Steve smiled at the back of Bucky’s head as Bucky peered up the stairs and watched him drag a hand along the polished wood of the banister.

“Four. Plus some storage space in the basement.”

“Sweet.”

“It needed a lot of work when I bought it.” Steve explained, trying to justify owning such a ridiculously large house. “I've been renovating....”

Bucky glanced over his shoulder to give Steve a strange look and Steve suddenly remembered he was dressed for handywork and covered in paint.

“Right.” Bucky smiled and shook his head, his expression looked almost fond for a second. “You going to give me the tour?” For all of his insistence of heading to the park for lunch, Bucky was already nosing his way up a few steps of the staircase.

“If you want?”

“I want.”

Bucky headed upstairs before Steve could stop him, gazing around at the tall airy ceilings and freshly painted walls as he went.

The way the house was built, the front steps led up to a parlour floor with reception rooms at the front and back, that Steve planned to turn into a home office and the main living room, leaving the kitchen and dining room on the floor below. Upstairs took them to the guest floor with two large bedrooms and a bathroom split between them. Up again, they found the master bedroom, en suite, and the room Steve was still painting that he planned for use as an art studio. The room faced south and the tall bay windows let light spill into the room.

Steve hadn’t put up any drapes yet so sunlight flooded the floor – and Bucky, as he twirled around the open space. Watching him take it all in, Steve suddenly realised what the house had been missing to make it feel like home: someone to share it with. And a particular someone at that.

It was then that Steve lost the battle that had been silently warring within himself. All of his emotions and everything he’d been wanting to tell Bucky for weeks welled up with such a force that it burst through the floodgates and Steve was powerless to stop it pouring from him.

“I missed you so much.” Steve gushed, unable to hold it back any longer. “I'm so sorry for ever letting you go.”

Bucky stilled and slowly turned to face Steve. “I missed you too.” He admitted.

Steve’s chest swelled with hope and it gave him the courage to continue. “I was wrong.” Steve said simply. “I was so fucking stupid, I never should have let you go –”

“Steve.” Bucky held up a hand to cut him off, shaking his head as he did so. “Wait. Before you say anything else, I want you make _sure_ you know what you want this time.” His voice was low and gravelly, it sounded pained. “I can’t take anymore mixed messages or uncertainty from you. Don’t,” Bucky faltered and looked up and away, like he might have been fighting back tears. “Don’t give me hope, my heart can’t take any more – okay?”

Steve was devastated. How had he been so stupid? How had he allowed himself to cause this much hurt? “I’m sorry.” He croaked out. “I’m so sorry. I was the biggest idiot. I was wrong for ever thinking you weren’t what I wanted.” Steve rushed to say. He wanted to step forwards and hug Bucky, or at least reach for his hand; do something to hold him again – but he held back and flexed his fingers impotently at his side inside. “I do want you, Bucky. More than anything. I should have realised that sooner. I should never have let you go. I should have let us try long distance, hell I should have fucking moved to Indiana if that’s what it took.” He paused for breath and felt his composure slip. Any minute he was going to start crying, but there were things that needed to be said first. “I thought I needed to figure out who I was alone, but I realised, I was the same person, deep down. I realised, who we’re with doesn’t change who we are, it just brings out a different side of us. And you brought out the best of me, Bucky.” Steve took a deep breath to fortify himself. “I love you. I’m so sorry it took me too long to realise that.” Steve’s vision blurred and his felt tears slip down his cheek. He tried valiantly to breathe through his nose and not to make a sound as Bucky let Steve’s words sink in.

“When did you realise?” Bucky asked. He frowned and looked just as hurt as Steve feared, but his question caught Steve off-guard.

“What?”

“That you – love me? When?” Bucky asked again, keeping his expression clouded.

Steve swallowed and fought against his tears to answer. “I knew it the moment you left. I didn’t admit it to myself until a few weeks later.”

Bucky looked furious.

“I know I hurt you, I know what I did was unforgiveable, but please –” Steve wasn’t above grovelling.

Bucky shook his head, looking livid. “You did what you had to do Steve, I understand that. I get it. You needed to prove to yourself that you could be independent, I don’t hate you for that.”

So, he did hate him, god. Steve had been expecting it but it still felt like a punch to the gut.

“What I don’t understand, what I’m struggling to forgive is – when you knew that you loved me? Why didn’t you call?” Bucky sounded so hurt, that it broke Steve’s heart to hear it.

The truth was, Steve didn’t have a good excuse. “I didn’t have your number.” He tried flimsily.

“Bullshit, Steve.” Bucky scoffed. “Bull_shit_. Sam has my number. It hasn’t changed. Sam even has my fucking address. He sends me Christmas cookies every year – I told you that!” Bucky shouted.

“I know.”

“So why didn’t you call? I’m not exactly hard to find, Steve. How many Bucky-fucking-Barneses do you think there are on facebook?”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” Steve screwed his eyes shut and shook his head, unable to look at Bucky and see the hurt he’d caused written all over Bucky’s face.

“Why?”

“Because I was scared! I was scared –” Steve started to yell and cut himself off with a quiet gasp. His anger left him as quickly as it had raised its ugly head. “Because I’m a fucking coward.” He finished quietly, full of burning shame.

“You’re many things, Steve Rogers. But you’re no coward. I know that much.” Bucky muttered back.

Steve glanced up and held Bucky’s eyes for just a moment before he had to look away. “Well, I am when it comes to you, okay? I was scared that you didn’t need me. Or that you didn’t want me.” Steve knew he should stop talking, but he’d clung onto these fears and insecurities for so long that it felt like they were burning a hole in his heart and he couldn’t keep from spilling them any longer. “I was scared of calling you and finding that you’d moved on. That you realised you never really loved me in the first place. That you’d done exactly as I’d asked, put the resort behind you and that…I’d missed my chance.” Steve admitted. He risked a glance at Bucky, not sure what to expect, but certainly not expecting to see such a look of such hurt and affront.

“You thought I lied to you?” Bucky’s voice was impossibly quiet. “That every time I laid my feelings bare, every time I opened up, told you that I _loved_ you…you thought that was, what, an act? Just to sleep with you?”

_No, no, no. Not like that._ Steve shook his head. “No. I don’t think you lied, I don’t think you’d ever lie about that Bucky – but…” He didn’t know how to articulate it. “Maybe you just got caught up in rush of holiday excitement? That once you got home you’d realise…” Steve gave up trying to explain and let his yes drop to the floor, shifting his weight from foot to foot and stomping a little in annoyance at his own ineloquence.

“You thought the charm would wear off? That I only loved you because our connection was fleeting? Because I knew it couldn’t really last?” Bucky asked, cutting right to the core of Steve’s fears.

“Yes.” He confessed, keeping his eyes to the floor; not wanting to read Bucky’s expression, fearing that if Bucky could sum it up so neatly, it must be true. Why else would someone as wonderful as Bucky have even fallen for him? Steve scuffed his foot and felt fresh tears leak from his eyes. He scrunched his nose and sniffed, but refused to wipe them away.

“Oh, _Steve_.”

Steve finally looked up and saw Bucky, he wasn’t prepared for the look of pure unadulterated love that he saw.

“I worried that at first.” Bucky explained. “On the beach, that first time – when I told you that I liked you.” The corner of Bucky’s mouth tugged up into a smile. “I knew, even then, that what I felt for you was more than casual, and I worried, just for a moment, if I only liked you because it would be a fling.”

Steve didn’t dare to breathe as he waited for what Bucky would say next.

“I knew it wasn’t true then. And I know it isn’t true now. I loved you. I still love you. I tried to move on. I tried so hard. But you’re it for me, Steve. No one else compares.”

Steve hardly dared believe it, but the truth of it was shining from Bucky, as bright as the sunlight that fell around him. “You’re it for me too.” Steve swallowed. “If you’ll have me?”

“You big dumb punk.”

Steve’s voice caught in his throat. He knew he was supposed to call Bucky something along the lines of a loveable jerk, but he couldn’t bring himself to insult Bucky, even if it was only pretend.

“You’re meant to insult me back.” Bucky gave a watery laugh and Steve realised Bucky had started crying too.

Steve shook his head. “I love you.” He said instead. Now he’d admitted it, it was the only thing he wanted to say.

“I love you too.”

Bucky finally closed the space between them and tucked himself into Steve’s arms.

“It’s not going to be easy.” Bucky warned. “We’ve still got a ton of shit to work through.”

“I know. But I want to try.” Steve assured Bucky. “I really want to try.” Steve thought it might have been the truest thing he’d ever said. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy ending is definitely on the horizon......🥰😄🥰
> 
> Check back Wednesday 10th June (after 7pm GMT) for Chapter 42!
> 
> =
> 
> [blacklivesmatters.carrd.co/](https://blacklivesmatters.carrd.co/#)


	42. Bucky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Reunion, Part Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry to drag this out, but I felt like we needed Bucky's perspective too 😊😊
> 
> As always, thank you so much for your comments!! The response to this fic has been more wonderful than I ever imagined it could be, and I am seriously so grateful for every one of your comments. Thank you! 💙💙💙💙💙

The shock of seeing Steve and the relief of being held by him again quickly gave way to confusion. If Steve was that happy to see him, so desperate cling to him, and so determined not to let him get away (if Bucky could gauge anything by Steve’s eagerness to change his plans and accompany Bucky for lunch); then why hadn’t he called? Steve was the one who’d ended things, and Bucky had repeatedly made his position clear. If Steve’s feelings had changed then, surely, he would have called? 

Bucky glanced sidelong at him as they ambled back to Steve’s house, but he couldn’t get a clear read on Steve’s feelings or his motivations for prolonging their encounter. He seemed to be doing well for himself, he looked well put together and his evident excitement about his new office was endearing. He’d certainly achieved a lot more during the four and half months since they’d seen each other than Bucky had; Bucky had to wonder if Steve had missed him at all. He put on a brave face and felt proud of himself for managing a normal conversation without breaking down into tears. As much as he’d been nervous about running into Steve, Bucky couldn’t deny that it was good to see him again; and deep-down Bucky was glad that Steve looked happy. Maybe this was what he needed to find closure, maybe after this, he’d finally able to move on. 

Steve hadn’t been lying when he said he only lived a couple of blocks away, and before Bucky knew it, they stopped in front of an impossibly big brownstone building with an inviting façade and a sleek looking motorbike chained by the front steps. 

“This one’s mine.” Steve said, he fished his keys from his pocket and waved up at the house. 

“Nice building.” Bucky said stared up at it, trying to figure out where it might be divided into apartments or maisonettes. “How much of it is yours?”

“Um. All of it?”

Bucky let out a low whistle, he didn’t know how much a building like that would cost. He wasn’t sure he wanted to. “I forgot you were super rich. Even more so, now you sold your company, right?” He teased lightly and Steve flushed. 

“Not super rich.” He protested “Just comfortable. Well, uncomfortable really. There's a few more digits in my bank balance then I really need.”

Bucky grinned and stepped through into a spacious, but empty, entrance hall. “I’ll happily spend them for you.” He offered with a smile, before he realised what he’d said and faltered. “How many floors?” He deflected and peered up the staircase, dragging a hand along the smooth wood of the banister. It was the kind of house you only saw in TV shows, or read about in books. 

“Four. Plus some storage space in the basement.”

“Sweet.” Bucky said flippantly to mask the deep feeling stirring within him and resigning himself to the fact that Steve had been right; he was very clearly doing just fine on his own. Bucky had just been a rebound, and now that Steve had pulled himself together he would be moving on to bigger and better things. It didn’t quite explain the hug, but Bucky didn’t want to let himself hope. He couldn’t take any more of that.

“It needed a lot of work when I bought it. I've been renovating....” Steve explained, unnecessarily. What else could the paint stained jeans and old t-shirt have been for? 

Bucky had to laugh at him, full of fondness for Steve, even if it wasn’t returned. “Right.” He smiled. “You going to give me the tour?” Now that he was here, he might as well see the rest of the place. 

“If you want?”

“I want.” 

Bucky didn’t know what he expected to happen as he nosed up the flights of stairs and peered into half decorated rooms along the way. So far, their conversation had carefully steered clear of anything truly important, both of them skirting around what they actually wanted to say, but Bucky refused to be the one who broached the subject first. He twirled around in the empty room at the top of the house, taking in the light, and quietly mourning the fact that he’d never live in such a house, waiting for Steve to speak up. Although, when he did, Steve’s outburst caught Bucky completely off guard. 

“I missed you so much. I’m so sorry for ever letting you go.”

Bucky turned, slowly, to face Steve and tried to read the expression on his face. It was one of hopeless longing. Which didn’t make any sense. 

“I missed you too.” Bucky admitted. 

“I was so fucking stupid, I never should have let you go –”

It was everything Bucky had been desperate to hear. Everything he’d wished Steve would call him and say, but Bucky couldn’t let it go anything further until he knew for sure – for sure – that they were on the same page this time. “Steve. Wait. Before you say anything else, I want to make sure you know what you want this time.” Bucky couldn’t take any more mixed messages of uncertainty from Steve and he made sure he stood his ground and told Steve that. “Don’t give me hope – my heart can’t take anymore, okay?”

Steve’s expression fell, but Bucky waited with guarded expectations before he let himself react to that. 

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” Steve croaked out. And what followed, the confession that poured out from him in between shaky breaths rocked Bucky to his core. “I was the biggest idiot. I was wrong for ever thinking you weren’t what I wanted. I do want you, Bucky. More than anything. I should have realised that sooner. I should never have let you go. I should have let us try long distance, hell I should have fucking moved to Indiana if that’s what it took. I thought I needed to figure out who I was alone, but I realised, I was the same person, deep down. I realised, who we’re with doesn’t change who we are, it just brings out a different side of us. And you brought out the best of me, Bucky. I love you. I’m so sorry it took me too long to realise that.”

Bucky was stunned. He stood stock still, watching as tears slipped down Steve’s cheeks and rolled off his chin. Steve made no move to wipe them away, he just stared at Bucky, waiting for him to respond. But Bucky didn’t know how to react. He didn’t know where to begin to unravel all of that. Steve…loved him? He’d changed his mind, like Bucky hoped and prayed he would – but if that was true, why the fuck hadn’t Steve called? All those times Bucky had hovered over Steve’s number on the webpage. All those times he’d typed out a message to Sam only to delete it before he could hit send. The wondering, the waiting, the hoping. All of that…only for Steve to feel the same? It should have made him feel delighted that his feelings were finally reciprocated, but Bucky only felt confused. 

“When did you realise?” He asked with a frown. 

“What?”

“That you,” Bucky could hardly believe it, let alone say it, “Love me? When?”

Perhaps it was a new revelation, perhaps Steve had been about to call before they bumped into each other…? 

“I knew it the moment you left. I didn’t admit it to myself until a few weeks later.”

Bucky’s confusion deepened.

“I know I hurt you, I know what I did was unforgiveable, but please –” Steve began to apologise for the wrong thing, but Bucky cut him off with a shake of his head. 

“You did what you had to do Steve, I understand that.” Bucky said, taking pains to keep his voice level and calm. “I get it. You needed to prove to yourself that you could be independent, I don’t hate you for that.” Of course, he’d understood that Steve needed time on his own to figure out his headspace, he’d just ended an eleven-year relationship for Christ’s sake. He’d been jilted, of course Bucky had understood that Steve would need some breathing space. But he’d thought, that if Steve really did change his mind that he’d have the decency to call. Apparently, Steve was prepared to let them both stew in their misery for ever, if they hadn’t happened to cross paths. It would have ludicrous, if it hadn’t been so painful. 

“Why didn’t you call?” Bucky demanded. 

“I didn’t have your number.” 

Bucky was bowled over by the sheer audacity. “Bullshit, Steve.” Bucky scoffed. “Bullshit. Sam has my number. It hasn’t changed. Sam even has my fucking address. He sends me Christmas cookies every year – I told you that!” 

“I know.” At least Steve seemed to realise his excuse was pathetic at best. 

“So why didn’t you call? I’m not exactly hard to find, Steve. How many Bucky-fucking-Barneses do you think there are on facebook?” Bucky shot at him. 

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” Steve looked broken and Bucky’s anger quickly dissipated, leaving only confusion and hurt.

“Why?” Bucky asked again, much softer this time. 

“Because I was scared! I was scared – ” Steve snapped, looking more angry at himself than anything else. Then his shoulders slumped and he admitted in a very small voice that pained Bucky to hear it. “Because I’m a fucking coward.”

Bucky shook his head, hating hearing Steve talk about himself like that. “You’re many things, Steve Rogers. But you’re no coward. I know that much.”

Steve glanced up at held Bucky’s eyes for a moment. Bucky tried to give him a smile, tried to reassure Steve with just a look that he still loved him, despite the setbacks, despite the heartache. Despite this new revelation that Steve had been too scared to call and give them a second chance, Bucky still loved him. 

Steve looked away, becoming fixated with a non-existent spot on the wall. “Well, I am when it comes to you, okay? I was scared that you didn’t need me. Or that you didn’t want me.” He sucked in a breath and what came next sounded like a confession of his deepest fears, ones that sent a stab of hurt right through Bucky’s heart. “I was scared of calling you and finding that you’d moved on. That you realised, you never really loved me in the first place. That you’d done exactly as I’d asked, put the resort behind you and that…I’d missed my chance.”

“You thought I lied to you?” Bucky asked, whatever he’d been expecting, that certainly wasn’t it. “That every time I laid my feelings bare, every time I opened up, told you that I loved you…you thought that was, what, an act? Just to sleep with you?” Bucky realised belatedly that he sounded angry, but he really was just trying to understand. After everything they’d shared on the island, all of their confessions, everything Bucky had said, and done – how could Steve not believe that? 

“No. I don’t think you lied, I don’t think you’d ever lie about that Bucky – but… Maybe you just got caught up in rush of holiday excitement? That once you got home you’d realise…” Steve looked on the verge of tears again and Bucky just wanted to run and hug him. 

“You thought the charm would wear off? That I only loved you because our connection was fleeting? Because I knew it couldn’t really last?” Bucky guessed, remembering how he’d felt during the picnic he’d been hesitant to let himself call a date. When he let himself admit that he really liked Steve, even if he hadn’t realised what he was feeling was love quite yet. 

“Yes.” Steve’s voice was painfully quiet and his eyes were fixed on the floor. 

“Oh, Steve.” Bucky’s heart went out to him. Why hadn’t Steve told him he was worried about that before? For all Bucky had thought they’d been open and honest with each other, why had Steve harboured that insecurity? What other secret fears was he keeping to himself? “I worried that at first.” Bucky explained. “On the beach, that first time – when I told you that I liked you.” He found himself smiling at the memory, even if it had been painful at the time. “I knew, even then, that what I felt for you was more than casual, and I worried, just for a moment, if I only liked you because it would be a fling.” He watched Steve tense and hurried on to explain. “I knew it wasn’t true then. And I know it isn’t true now. I loved you. I still love you. I tried to move on. I tried so hard. But you’re it for me, Steve. No one else compares.”

Steve glanced up, hesitant and hopeful. “You’re it for me too.” Steve said, then added with a painfully cautious, “If you’ll have me?”

“You big dumb punk.” A big dumb, self-sacrificial, idiotic, lovable, punk. Bucky had to laugh to keep from crying. 

Steve nodded but respond back like he should in what had become their usual back-and-forth at the resort. 

“You’re meant to insult me back.” Bucky lost his battle with holding back his tears, still aching to run and hug Steve. 

Steve shook his head. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” Bucky stopped trying to hold anything back and pulled Steve into his arms, tucking his head against Steve’s shoulder. He knew it wouldn’t be easy, there was still so much hurt between them, and so many insecurities for both of them to work through, but Steve’s assurance that he wanted to try was all that Bucky needed to hear. 

“Good. That’s good. I want to try too.” Bucky gave Steve a squeeze and when Steve twisted to press a kiss into Bucky’s hair, Bucky let out a shuddering sigh of contentment. For the first time in months he felt the ache in his heart subside. The only thing stopping it from being a perfect hug, was the fact they were both still clutching sandwiches. “We should probably eat these before they get ruined, huh?” Bucky laughed, breaking off the hug and stepping back. 

“Probably.” Steve was a snivelling, crying mess.

“Oh, come here.” Bucky used his thumb to wipe the tears from Steve’s cheek and pressed a soft kiss under each eye in their place. “Kitchen’s downstairs right?”

Steve nodded and sniffed back the last of his tears. “Yeah.” He said eventually, his voice sounded wrecked. 

Bucky reached for his free hand and entwined their fingers, but instead of being dragged towards the stairs, Steve pulled Bucky over to a cupboard on the landing instead. 

“But there’s still one part of the tour left.”

“Okay?” Bucky sounded dubious as Steve opened by the cupboard, but it was soon replaced with excitement as Steve revealed a secret staircase. 

“It goes to the roof.” Steve explained. 

Bucky didn’t need any more encouragement than that. He climbed up quickly, and undid a bolt to open a door that led out onto a narrow roof-top deck carved out between the water tank, ventilation shafts, and the housing for the staircase that took up most of the roof space. The deck It was just wide enough for two sun loungers, a coffee table and a leafy potted plant, with barely space to move between them, but the view was incredible. Through the gaps in the mis-matched, low rise buildings of Brooklyn, Bucky could see all the way to the tall sky-scrapers of Manhattan. “Wow.” He exhaled, staring out at the view. 

“Yeah.” Steve sighed, voice still wavering with the aftershocks of his tears. “It’s why I bought the place.”

It was a perfectly valid reason. Bucky tilted his head back to survey the wide expanse of clear blue sky. “Can you see any stars from up here?” 

“Um. Not many.” 

“But you’ve looked?” Bucky asked, turning to Steve and finding him staring up at the sky too. Bucky thought back to their conversation on that very first night on the beach, when Steve said he never bothered to look up at the stars. 

“Yeah. I have.” He brought his eyes back to Bucky and smiled. “You can only see about six, on a clear night. I don’t know enough…I couldn’t tell you which ones.” 

Bucky laughed and wanted to explain that it was difficult for anyone to know which stars were which, without context clues from the stars around them. 

But then Steve added, “I’m sure you could.” Steve eyes were no longer red and when he smiled it sparked warmth deep in Bucky’s chest. 

“Well, maybe I’ll have to stick around and see.” Bucky hinted, suggestively. Bucky was still angry with Steve that he’d let them both suffer unnecessarily for so long, but it was far outshined by giddying knowledge that Steve loved him too; and better still, that he wanted to give them a chance. 

“Maybe you should.” Steve agreed. 

Bucky placed his sandwich, still wrapped in the paper from the deli, on the coffee table and took Steve’s from him to do the same, before stepping back into Steve’s arms for a proper, perfect hug. Lunch could wait just a little longer. 

“But only if you want to.” Steve murmured into Bucky’s hair, chasing it with a kiss and sending a pleasant shiver down Bucky’s spine. 

“At the moment I’m sleeping Clint’s couch – pretty sure you can offer me better accommodation?” They’d briefly nosed into the master bedroom on the tour of the house, that room at least had been fully furnished. “If Sam and Riley don’t mind, of course.”

“Pretty sure they wouldn’t.” 

“Good.” Bucky grinned. “Now, I think it’s well beyond time that you kissed me, wouldn’t you agree?” He added with a smirk.

Steve brought a hand up to brush Bucky’s hair back from his forehead and for a moment they just locked eyes. Steve let his knuckles drag down the side of Bucky’s face and across his jaw, featherlight and igniting sparks in his core. Feeling impatient, it was Bucky who arched up into the kiss first, closing his eyes and clashing their mouths together. It felt different, with the soft scrape of Steve’s beard tickling his jaw, but taste of Steve’s lips was achingly familiar. Despite their absence, Steve kissed just like Bucky remembered, exactly how he liked. Bucky threw his arms around Steve’s neck and pressed their bodies flush, drinking Steve in and losing himself to the sensation as they both chased what they wanted from each other.

A soft breeze rippled around them, car horns tooted and somewhere a jackhammer was digging up a road. Bucky let all of that fade away, narrowing his focus to Steve and only Steve. Wrapped in Steve’s arms, feeling kiss-drunk, and buoyant with love; Bucky felt more than ‘fine’ for the first time in months. He felt happy. 

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay, things are back on track - they still need to work some things out, but from here on it's mostly fluff 🥰🥰🥰
> 
> Check back Saturday 13th June for Chapter 43!
> 
> =
> 
> More petitions and resouces are added to this carrd daily, so keep signing and keep supporting if you can. [blacklivesmatters.carrd.co](https://blacklivesmatters.carrd.co/#)


	43. Bucky

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all your comments!!!! 💙💙💙💙

They eventually stopped kissing long enough to remember their lunch and Steve pulled two bottles of beer from a cooler he had hidden in a permanently shaded part of the roof. The sandwich was every bit a good as Bucky remembered, even better when eaten with a view across the rooftops of Brooklyn spread out before him, and Steve lounging on the chair beside him. 

“When did you move in?” Bucky asked, chasing the last bite mustard-soaked bread with a swig of beer. 

“I put on an offer on the place in June, moved in first week of July.” 

“Just in time for your birthday.”

“Yeah.” Steve dipped his head and Bucky remembered how much Steve had been dreading his birthday this year. 

“What did you end up doing for your birthday?” He hoped Sam, or someone, had found a nice way to distract Steve from the fireworks he’d grown to hate – and done something he’d actually enjoyed doing for a change.

“I spent it here.”

“With friends?”

Steve shook his head and Bucky’s heart went out to him. “Sam was busy. And I, uh,” he gave a sad huff of a laugh. “Realised most everyone else I knew was Peggy’s friend not mine. All I have is colleagues, and acquaintances, or clients.” He shrugged. 

“Yeah, adult life sucks.” Bucky could count the number of friends he had back in Shelbyville on one hand, and two of those were his sister and brother-in-law. “I’m sorry you had to spend it alone.”

Steve nodded and drank some more beer, but then he turned to Bucky and flashed a smile that looked almost proud. “I forced myself to watch the fireworks.” He said. “They lit up the whole sky, just like they used to.”

Bucky reached out for Steve’s hand and grasped it tight. 

“It felt wrong, without my mom. But. I did it. Proved to myself I could get through it alone.” 

Oh, that tugged on Bucky’s heartstrings. “Hopefully you won’t have to again.” He gave Steve’s hand a squeeze. 

Steve glanced across at him, his brow creased with the familiar looked of confusion, lips pouting just so. “You mean that? After everything I put you through?”

“I mean it. I love you Steve. And you said you wanted to try?”

“I do.”

“Then, I mean – I hope we last more than a year.” Bucky laughed.

“I hope we do too.” Steve frown lifted and he arched between the chairs to kiss Bucky again; tasting distinctly of beer and pastrami this time. Which didn’t matter, Bucky was pretty sure his mouth tasted the same. 

“What time are Sam and Riley due back?”

“Not ‘til much, much later.” Steve assured Bucky. 

They abandoned the sun loungers – with their painful metal armrests digging in between them – very quickly after that; both of them practically falling down the narrow staircase from the roof back to the Steve’s bedroom. Bucky pulled his sweatshirt over his head in one smooth move and kicked off his shoes and jeans, falling back onto the bed and scurrying his way up towards the headrest. 

“God, I missed you so much.” Steve groaned as he crawled his way up Bucky’s body, pausing to press little kisses against into Bucky’s thighs and stomach as he went. 

They didn’t actually get as far as sex, both of them far too worked up with the heady rush of emotions of finally bring reunited. All it took was Steve kissing Bucky, feeling that delightful brush of Steve’s beard against his jaw, and the hot press of his body against Bucky’s for Bucky to feel like he was spiralling towards the edge. Bucky grabbed hold of Steve’s strong shoulders, and splayed his hands across the shifting muscles in Steve’s back which – if anything – seemed to have gotten bigger since they’d parted. He ground up against Steve’s hips and at the touch of Steve’s strong, calloused, hand against his cock, pumping slowly with just the right amount of pressure, Bucky was coming between them, embarrassingly fast, panting and keening as his pleasure ripped through him. 

“Fuck, I’m sorry.” Bucky sighed. 

Steve carried on kissing him and brushed Bucky’s hair back from his forehead. “Don’t be.” He peppered kisses across Bucky’s forehead and down his nose before Bucky tangled a hand at the nape of Steve’s neck and pulled their mouths together. He used his waning strength, already feeling himself turn lax and pliant following his orgasm, and flipped them so he could crawl down Steve’s body and take him into his mouth. Steve didn’t last long with Bucky carefully swirling his tongue and swallowing him down. 

Bucky’s energy left him after that. He flopped face down on Steve’s stomach, lying between Steve’s splayed legs, sated and content. When Steve brought a hand to card softy through Bucky’s hair, he knew he was back in paradise and gave a happy sounding hum that vibrated through Steve’s chest. 

“I love you.” Steve mumbled, sounding just as spent as Bucky felt. “I never want to lose you again.”

“Good. ‘cause I don’t plan on going anywhere.” Bucky hummed, happy to lie where he was for an eternity. 

“But you do have to, don’t you?” Steve’s hand carded through Bucky’s hair, tugging softly as it loosened his soft curls. “When’s your flight home?”

“Monday.”

“I feel like we’ve been here before.” Steve sounded painfully sad. 

“But this time, I’m coming back.” Bucky propped his chin on Steve’s chest and stared up at him. 

“And I’ll come visit you in Shelbyville too.” Steve promised.

Bucky’s grin widened and he shook his head, letting Steve stew in his confusion for just a moment. 

“I didn’t come here just to visit Clint this weekend.” He explained. 

“Oh?”

“I had a job interview.” 

Steve’s hand stilled. “Here? In the city?”

“Yep.” Bucky beamed. “It’s a transfer, and a bit of a promotion. I applied ages ago – before Becca’s wedding. They only just got back to me.”

“And?” Steve’s voice piqued with hope.

“I think I’m gonna say yes.” Bucky gave a last grin and then tucked his cheek back against Steve’s stomach, bringing a hand up to lightly trace circles on Steve’s hip. 

“You’re going to move to the city?”

Bucky had to laugh at how dazed Steve sounded. “Yeah.”

“We don’t have to do this long distance?”

“Nope.” Bucky pressed a kiss into Steve’s stomach. 

Steve stayed quiet for a spell and Bucky wondered what was going through his mind, something positive, he hoped. 

“You don’t have to accept it, not if you don’t want to, not for my sake.” Steve said eventually. “We can figure out another way.”

“I’m not doing it for you, Steve.” Bucky assured him. “I want this. I’ve wanted it for ages. I always wanted to move back to Brooklyn one day.”

Steve curled forwards to wrap himself around Bucky’s head and plaster him with kisses until Bucky couldn’t take it anymore and burst out laughing. 

“Stop it, Steve, you’re smothering me.”

“Sorry.” Steve flopped back into the pillows and resumed carding through Bucky’s hair. “I can’t help it. I love you too much.” 

Bucky just hummed. He needed to move soon, but he wasn’t ready to, even if his shoulder didn’t like being bunched up over Steve’s thigh like it was, and the sticky mess on his stomach was beginning to itch as it dried. 

“You’re really going to stay?”

“Yeah. I am.” Bucky planted his chin back on Steve’s stomach again. “I’ll have to go back for a bit, to sort out my apartment and get everything sorted.”

“Yeah, of course. When would the new job start?” Steve’s feigned nonchalance didn’t fool Bucky. 

They’d given Bucky an option of starting right away, or a few weeks to get sorted. Their only stipulation had been that he filled the post before the 5th of October. “First week in October.” He relayed to Steve.

“That’s fast.”

“It’s an internal transfer,” Bucky shrugged. 

“Where will you live? You know, if you need somewhere…I’ve got space.”

Bucky had to laugh at that. He lifted himself up onto his hands and knees so that he was looking down at Steve, and shook his head. “Let’s take it one step at a time, yeah? We went about this all backwards on the island.” Being intimate before they’d been intimate, falling for each other before they’d had a real date, getting close and domestic before they’d ever seen how they lived in real life. 

“Where will you go?” Steve brought his hand up to cup Bucky’s jaw and sweep his thumb across Bucky’s check.

“Clint’s offered his place. It’s just a few blocks from here.”

Steve didn’t look surprised. “Yeah, I thought I’d seen him on the subway a few times. But – you said were sleeping on his couch? You can’t do that long term, I’ve got guest rooms.”

Bucky crawled off Steve to lie beside him on his, side of the bed, pleased to find that Steve hadn’t just acquiesced to the side of bed Bucky hadn’t been using back at the resort. Judging by the alarm clock and phone charger over on Steve’s bedside table, that really had been his side. Bucky took that as a very promising sign. He curled onto his side and scrunched the pillow under his head to stare across at Steve. 

“Turns out his roommate doesn’t really use her room anymore.” Bucky arched an eyebrow and gave a knowing smile.

“Ah. I see.”

“So, they’ve said they can clear the room out for me. Short term.” As much as Bucky would love to move into Steve’s home immediately and help him finish decorating it and furnishing it; it would be far too much, far too soon. If this was ever going to work long term, they couldn’t rush into something like that. They needed to date each other, court each other, get to know one another without the pressure of living on top of one another. “Would that work?”

“I think we can work with that.” Steve smiled. 

Bucky smiled back, taking his fill of the sight of Steve looking at him with such a fond warmth in his eyes. He reached out to scratch at the soft strands of Steve’s beard, feeling them bristle under his fingertips. “I like this.” Bucky said, dragging his fingers through it. 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I think you should keep it.” 

“Maybe, I will.” He twisted his face to press a kiss into the palm of Bucky’s hand and then reached up to entwine his fingers with Bucky’s and pull their clasped hands down to rest on his chest. “What are you doing tomorrow? I know you had plans with Clint – but I’m throwing a barbeque with Sam, Riley and some people from the new office. You should come. Clint too, and his roommate – and whoever else he wants to invite. I still don’t know many people in this neighbourhood, so the more the merrier.” 

Seeing as the limit of Clint’s plans had been to ‘paint the town mauve’ in an effort to convince Bucky to move back to New York – Bucky suspected he’d be fine with a barbeque. 

“Yeah, I think he’d be fine with that. He’d never pass up the offer of free food.” 

“You might have to help me build a dining table first.” Steve admitted.

Bucky just laughed. “Oh, is that how is it? You just want me for my furniture building skills?” He teased. 

“Why, are you any good?” 

“Oh, I’m a flat-pack virtuoso.” Bucky grinned. “But if we’re building anything, then I’m gonna need a nap first.” 

“Sure thing.” 

“And maybe a shower.” His stomach was definitely starting to feel gross now. 

“I guess that’s allowed.” 

They showered together, doing an admirable job of keeping their hands to themselves and actually getting clean for once – mainly because Bucky was too sleepy and his previous orgasm was too fresh for them to do anything else. Afterwards Steve re-donned his painting shirt and jeans, and Bucky borrowed a comfortable pair of sweats and an old shirt. Steve opted to paint the second coat of primer in the art studio, telling Bucky to take a nap before they tackled the dining set. 

Bucky tried, but with the prospect of Steve painting in the next room, Bucky found himself unable to sleep. He tiptoed across the hall and leant on the door jamb to watch Steve at work for a minute, shoulder muscles bunching and gliding under this thin t-shirt as he pushed the roller across the walls in strong, sure movements. Golden light spilled through the windows and caught in Steve's hair, almost giving him a halo. He was even more breathtakingly beautiful than Bucky had remembered, and the photos on Bucky’s phone had hardly done him justice. Bucky sighed, giving himself away.

“You watching me?” Steve laughed.

“Yeah.” Bucky replied without shame.

Steve lowered his roller and turned to smile at Bucky, goofy and golden and utterly adorable. “You can help if you want, I've got more brushes.” He offered. 

“No thanks.” Bucky made no effort to move. “Painting’s more fun as a spectator sport.”

Steve laughed.

“I might go make a coffee though, you want anything?”

“A coffee would be lovely. Feel free to go through the cupboards and find what you need.”

“Okay.”

Bucky padded down the multiple flights of stairs and took a moment to peer into the dining room as he passed. It stood at the front of the house with polished wood panelling and long maroon drapes hanging in neat pleats by the window. An original fireplace stood against the wall and boxes of flat packed dining furniture were stacked haphazardly in the middle of the hardwood floors. The walls were the same fresh white as the rest of the house, but there was a large landscape painting hanging on the wall, an abstract depiction of a Brooklyn sunset in deep reds, browns and golds that matched the drapes. Bucky wondered if Steve had painted it himself, or just lucked out in finding something that so perfectly matched the room. 

After he’d stared long and hard at every detailed brush stroke of the painting, Bucky padded through the open arch way to the kitchen. It was looked like one of the few rooms in the house that was fully furnished; light and airy with large island in the middle, white marble counter tops, navy blue cupboard doors and hints of copper finishes everywhere. The window above the sink looked out onto a small yard and let light flood across slate grey tiles on the floor. Bucky found the mugs easily and set a pot of coffee going in the machine on the counter. He pulled out his phone a sent a quick message to Clint letting him know he’d run into Steve and was planning on staying the night, and another inviting him to the barbeque on Saturday. Clint immediately sent back a winking face and the aubergine emoji, followed by, ‘hell yeah! free food! C U 2morrow Barnes’, because he was apparently still fifteen years old.

Bucky dropped phone on counter the as he waited for the coffee to brew and stared out over the garden with a smile. He couldn't let himself move in immediately, he was convinced they needed to take things slow. But one day, one day in the not too distant future, Bucky could easily see himself making that house his home.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're so close to the end now, one more chapter and then a nice long epilogue to follow 😊😊
> 
> Check back Wednesday 17th for Chapter 44!


	44. Steve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 🎶 It's the final chapter 🎶 (not counting a nice long epilogue!)
> 
> I seriously cannot you all enough for the response to this fic, all of your wonderful comments have been so encouraging! I definitely don't think I'd have managed to write this so quickly or update it as regularly without all of your comments, so thank you so much!! 💙💙💙

Bucky hadn't been lying when he said he was a flat pack virtuoso. He deciphered the instructions far easier than Steve had ever managed to, and between them, they'd assembled a grand dining table and 8 matching chairs without anyone getting overly stressed or Steve feeling like he needed to tear his hair out.

Watching Bucky laugh, seeing his eyes light up and hearing his voice fill the room, Steve wondered how he'd ever thought he'd be fine without him. He'd been a fool for holding out so long, he should have called Bucky the moment he realised, should have run after him the moment the hotel door closed. Steve could only thank his lucky stars that fate had been looking after them and they crossed paths when they did. He didn't even want to think about what might have happened if he'd decided to skip lunch, or gone to the deli even fifteen minutes later.

“You okay?” Bucky asked.

“Fine. Just thinking how lucky I was to run in to you today.”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “If you'd pulled your head out of your ass and stopped overthinking things for one minute, we wouldn't have needed luck.” He teased, and Steve managed a pained smile in response. He wasn’t ready to laugh about it yet; he still felt too damn guilty. “Did you paint that?” Bucky tactfully changed the conversation and nodded towards the painting hanging on the wall as he finished screwing the last leg onto a dining chair.

Steve glanced up at the painting and lost himself in it for a moment, admiring the brush strokes and the dappled flashes of gold that were sprinkled on the rooftops. “No. My mom did.”

He felt Bucky turn to stare at him, but Steve couldn’t take his eyes off the painting.

“Wow, she was talented.”

“Yeah. She was.” Steve agreed, tinged with more guilt. “She had to give it up when I came along. Being a struggling artist didn’t pay the bills half as reliably as nursing did, and – with all my childhood illnesses – there were lots of bills to pay.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Me too. Just glad I’ve finally got space to hang this again, it’s been sitting in storage for far too long.”

“You didn’t have it up in DC?”

“Wasn’t space.” Steve admitted. Or rather, Steve didn’t feel like he could make space for it.

“Well. It looks beautiful here. It goes so well with the room.”

Steve glanced across at Bucky and found him smiling warmly. “Yeah it does.”

“I wish I’d been able to meet her.” Bucky said after a while, his voice quiet. “Do you think she would have liked me?”

A rush of affection flooded through Steve. “I know she would have loved you.”

“Yeah? My mom would have absolutely doted on you. Might’ve had a thing or two to say about not calling me back for so long.” He smirked. “But she would have forgiven you – on my say so.”

“Do you forgive me?” Steve dared to ask.

Bucky pretended to think for a minute before giving Steve an easy smile. “Yeah. I do.”

The best thing about it was, Steve believed him. Bucky really had forgiven him, just like that. Obviously, there were still plenty of issues they had to work through and navigate. They had to figure out how they meshed together when real life, and work, and all the everyday mundane problems of life got in the way. But Steve was pretty sure they'd be able to face whatever was thrown their way.

The christened the dining table with Steve's favourite Chinese take-out, which Steve had been delighted to find was still in business, and then curled together on the sofa upstairs, each paying more attention to the other than to the film they were watching. Bucky kept placing soft kisses against Steve’s collar bones, with his hand planted firmly on Steve’s stomach, occasionally scrunching the fabric of Steve’s t-shirt like he was reminding himself that Steve was really there underneath. In turn, Steve hugged Bucky close, playing with the hem of his sweats that hung loose over Bucky’s ankles; tracing spiralled patterns into Bucky’s lower legs which were tucked beside him on the couch. Steve had missed their casual tactile intimacy more than he realised, and now that Bucky was back in his life, back in his arms, Steve didn’t ever want to let him go.

They were still curled together, half asleep, when the sound of the front door being less than subtly unlocked woke them up after midnight.

“Oh shit.”

“Shhhh.”

Sam and Riley’s voices whispered loudly to each other, both sounding a little drunk.

Bucky tensed awake immediately, bolting upright, but Steve threw an arm out to soothe him. “It’s just Sam.” He said quietly to Bucky before calling out more loudly, “It’s alright. We’re awake.”

“We?” Sam called back.

“Did you tell him about me?” Bucky checked, glancing up at Steve with a hint of concern.

“Yeah.” Steve assured him, planting a kiss on Bucky’s head before untangling himself in readiness to greet Sam. “Well, some of it.” He allowed. He hadn’t gone into all of the details; hadn’t admitted quite how cut up about Bucky he had been. 

Bucky arched an eyebrow, but before he could question Steve any further, Sam stepped into the living room Riley in tow.

“JB!” Sam’s face cracked into a delighted grin when he spotted Bucky curled up on the sofa next to Steve.

“Hi, Sam.” Bucky pushed himself to his feet and pulled Sam into a hug. Steve found himself standing up as well.

“What are you doing here?” Sam clapped Bucky on his right arm and staggered back to appraise him.

“We ran into reach other.” Bucky answered.

“And made up? I hope?” Sam asked.

Bucky glanced over his shoulder to give Steve a crooked smile. “Yeah. I forgave him.”

“Good on you, Barnes.” Sam grinned and gave Bucky another hearty squeeze of a hug. “Did you ever meet Riley?”

“No. Hi.” Bucky stepped up to greet Riley with a handshake that quickly turned into a hug.

“Pleased to meet you.” Riley replied with his soft southern lilt, and Steve's heart swelled at the sight of his friends all together. 

“This one's been pining over you for months, you know.” Sam crossed his arms and whispered to Bucky in a fake conspiratorial manner, staring at Steve with a very knowing smile.

“Yeah? Well it was lucky we ran into each other because I don't think he had any intention of ever giving me a call.” Bucky stage whispered back, and smiled in a way that suggested he never planned to let go of that particular mistake. Sam’s equally smug grin told Steve that they’d hang it over his head forever. Well, Steve supposed, it was nothing less than he deserved.

“Was gonna let us both be miserable for eternity.” Bucky continued, with a widening smile.

Steve propped his hands on his hips and dipped his gaze to the floor, shaking his head.

“Nah, we'd never have let it get that far.” Sam assured Bucky.

“Yeah. We gave him until Christmas.” Riley added. 

Steve glanced up just as Bucky asked, “Christmas?”

“Yeah, if he was still moping around, we were gonna drive him up to Indiana ourselves. Deliver the Christmas cookies in person.” Sam grinned.

Steve flushed with the realisation that Sam and Riley had noticed how miserable he was, even if he hadn’t told them in so many words. More than that, they’d been secretly making plans to fix it for him. But if it had been that obvious, why hadn’t they told him to call Bucky sooner? “Why didn't you tell me to call sooner?”

“Told you,” Sam said with a shrug, “I don't like to meddle. You have to figure these things out for yourself, pal.”

“At least it looks like it all turned out for the best?” Riley cut in.

Steve didn’t want to sound presumptuous, so he waited for Bucky to answer.

“Yeah. I guess it did.” Bucky slipped his arm around Steve's waist and cuddled close against his side. Automatically Steve twisted to press a kiss into his hair. 

“Isn't that sweet?” Riley and Sam cooed to each other. 

“Alright, alright.” Steve laughed it off as Bucky just hugged him tighter.

They didn't bother with the rest of the film. Sam and Riley were too exhausted from a full day of sight-seeing so they begged off immediately to go to bed, and with Bucky yawning against Steve’s shoulder, Steve decided to call it a night. He packed Bucky off upstairs with a kiss before he switched off the TV and set about closing up the house; locking all the doors and windows, before fetching a glass of water each for him and Bucky, and carrying them up to the top of the house.

Bucky was already snuggled under the covers on his side of the bed when Steve entered the bedroom. His hair was splayed on the pillows and he wore a happy, dreamy look on his face. Steve stopped in the doorway, taking it all in. It felt like a dream, having Bucky back in his life, having Bucky forgive him; this time yesterday, Steve would have said such a thing was impossible. 

“What are you staring at?” Bucky asked. 

“You.” Steve answered honestly. “You're so beautiful, you know that right? I’m so glad you’re back.”

“C’mere.” Bucky made grabby hands for him and Steve dutifully crossed the room. He placed the glasses carefully on the bedside table and sat down on the bed beside Bucky. “I’m glad I’m back too.” Bucky smiled dreamily up at him.

“I wish I’d called sooner.” Steve reached out to cup Bucky’s face. He gently placed the pad of his thumb into the dimple of Bucky’s jaw and Bucky tilted into the touch. “I’m so sorry I didn’t.”

“It’s okay. I forgive you – for not calling _and_ for being the biggest, dumbest idiot in the world.” Bucky laughed slightly. “Maybe I shouldn’t. Maybe I should stay mad at you a little while longer, but we’ve both spent too long hurting, so I don’t see the point.”

Steve swiped his thumb across Bucky’s chin and swooped to give him a soft kiss. “I don’t deserve you.”

Bucky reached up and grabbed Steve’s hand by the wrist holding firm. “Yes, you do. That’s the kind of thinking that got us into this mess in the first place, Steve. Neither of us is more deserving than the other. Let’s both just be happy we have each other, yeah?”

It was never going to be as easy as that, but Steve understood the point Bucky was trying to make.

“Okay.”

“Promise me something?” Bucky swiped his thumb in circles over Steve’s wrist.

“Anything.” Steve’s answer came readily.

“That you'll be honest with me.” Bucky asked. 

Steve's instinct was to rush to say that of course he would, but he realised he hadn't been entirely honest with Bucky, which was precisely why they'd ended up apart for so long. 

“No more harbouring secret insecurities. No more making choices for the both of us based on what _you_ think is best.” Bucky pressed and Steve cringed internally. “The only way this is going to work is if we're honest with each other.”

“I’ll try.” It was the only honest answer Steve could give.

“I’ll make plenty of mistakes of my own.” Bucky added. “We’re going to fall out about somethings, I'll get mad at you sometimes. We’ll fight. We _will_.” Bucky insisted, easily reading the protesting look that Steve felt draw his brows taut. Bucky poked Steve lightly on the nose and Steve found himself smiling instead. “But that's fine, I'd be worried if we didn't. I don't need perfection from you Steve. Just honest, _earnest_ love.”

“I can do that.” As far as commitment went, it was an easy promise to make. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

And then, because he could, Steve leant over to kiss Bucky. Languid and slow, taking all the time he wanted. There was no hurry, no countdown ticking over them anymore, now they had all the time in the world. 

=

Thankfully the bright sunny weather lasted into Saturday. With guests to entertain, Steve and Bucky couldn’t stay cocooned all morning in bed like they wanted to, but Steve contented himself with the knowledge that there would be plenty of time for that in the future. So, after lots of lazy morning kisses and shared shower that took twice as long as it should have done thanks to Bucky getting handsy, they descended to the kitchen for breakfast and to start meal prepping for the barbeque.

Bucky borrowed more of Steve’s clothes – claiming he couldn’t be bothered to go and fetch his things from Clint’s place just yet – and the sight of him pottering Steve’s kitchen in a pair of his old shorts and t-shirt, making himself perfectly at home as he chopped the salad and told Steve he was cutting up the bell peppers wrong – warmed Steve’s heart. They’d fallen so quickly back into their pattern of easy domesticity, and whilst Steve understood why Bucky didn’t want to move in immediately, he had hopes that one day waking up together, cooking together, and stealing kisses as they handed each other utensils and plates of food, might become their everyday life.

By mid-afternoon the house was full and Steve manned the grill with a giant smile on his face, feeling house proud and happy to be hosting so many friends and new faces alike. Clint came, as promised, and was delighted by the free food, as Bucky had predicted. He brought his roommate, Natasha, with him and a couple of other friends from the neighbourhood whom Steve suspected would become good drinking buddies.

Steve flipped the burgers and rolled the sausages, sending up a sizzle as juices dropped onto the charcoal below, and stole glances across the garden at Bucky. He was sitting at the garden table with Sam, regaling some of Steve’s new designers with their war stories. Judging from the snippets Steve overheard, and the mischievous glint in Sam’s eye, Steve was pretty sure they were all either completely made up or exaggerated beyond reason. Bucky kept glancing back at Steve, making solid eye-contact as he drained his beer bottle, and Steve couldn’t help but flush; and not just from the heat of the grill.

Eventually, Bucky excused himself from the conversation and made his way over to Steve.

“Hi.” He pressed a hand into the small of Steve's back and kissed him lightly on the jaw. “Need a hand?”

“Nah, I'm good.”

“Another beer?”

“That would be great.”

Steve watched Bucky disappear inside to fetch two cool beers from the ice box they'd set up inside the door, wondering he’d ended up so lucky; especially after he’d messed up so badly.

“Becca says hi, by the way.” Bucky said as he handed over the beer.

“You told her we made up?” Steve carefully moved around the caramelised onions being kept warm on the corner of the grill to make sure they weren't burning, sending up a wave of sugary, buttery aroma.

“Smell’s good.” Bucky inhaled and leant closer in lieu of answering. “Anything ready yet?”

“Nearly.” Steve promised.

“I told her she was terrible at math.” Bucky continued, leaving Steve feeling like he’d missed a step somewhere.

Bucky laughed at his look of confusion. “When I told Becca I was worried about coming to New York because I might run into you,” – he nudged Steve's hip lightly with his own, looking a little embarrassed by that now – “she told me the odds were something like 50 million to one.”

“Fifty million huh?”

“So, I told her, her math was terrible and she could stop worrying about me getting over you because we were getting back together instead.”

Steve had to laugh at Bucky's frankness. “Why did she say about that? Should I expect a scary phone call?”

“Nah, she's happy. Actually, her exact words were,” Bucky fished his phone from his pocket to quote: “’It’s about damn time.’ Oh, and she says you’re invited for Thanksgiving. Christmas too if you don't have plans.

Perhaps it should have worried Steve, the prospect of making plans that far away, but he was just glad Bucky and his family wanted to welcome him to share the holidays with them.

“If you want me there.”

“Course I do, you punk.”

“Jerk.” Steve smiled back.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now for the fluffiest of epilogues, and a special suprise.....the epilogue got so long that I've split into two parts!
> 
> Steve's POV will be posted on Friday 19th June, and Bucky's POV will follow on Saturday 20th. Hope you like it!
> 
> 💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙
> 
> =
> 
> [blacklivesmatters.carrd.co](https://blacklivesmatters.carrd.co/#) // [yemencrisis.carrd.co](https://yemencrisis.carrd.co/)


	45. Epilogue - Steve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Epilogue, Part One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now for a long fluffy epilogue to tie everything off with a neat bow. I hope you like it!  
Thank you all so much for your comments!!!  
💙💙💙💙💙

** _~ Four Years Later~_ **

“A little more to port!” Steve shouted back to Bucky who was currently manning the helm. He held onto the leeward sheet in readiness to secure it tight once they caught the wind.

“Which one’s that?” Bucky shouted back.

“Left!”

Steve shielded his eyes from the sun with a hand pressed to his forehead and turned back to watch Bucky wrestle with the steering wheel, swinging their yacht further to port and turning them into the breeze. Steve tied off the knot and watched as their sails caught the wind. Although they were motoring along with the engine running, Steve liked to keep the sail up for efficiency, and he was trying to teach Bucky how to tack into the wind. Bucky had mastered everything else phenomenally well so far, but he never seemed to remember the difference between port and starboard.

Steve balanced his way along the edge of the deck until he could step up behind Bucky and wrap his arms around Bucky’s waist.

“Why couldn’t you just say left?” Bucky argued.

“I did.” Steve answered with a smug grin and propped his chin on Bucky’s shoulder.

“No. You used a ridiculous, unnecessary technical term.” Bucky bickered, light-heartedly. "What’s the point of port and starboard? No one knows which is which.”

“Really, no one?” Steve laughed, before adding, “It gets confusing otherwise; my left? your left?”

“_Your left,_ then. It’s not hard.”

“But that’s not the proper terminology.” Steve was just being pernickety now, but he trusted Bucky to know he was joking.

“It’s not like the boat police are gonna come and fine you for using incorrect _terminology_.” Bucky snorted.

“The boat police?”

“Yeah, sailing enforcement, I don’t know.” He shrugged gently, jostling Steve’s head on his shoulder. 

“Like the coast guard?” Steve laughed. He felt Bucky still, and then saw him dip his head into his chest in embarrassment.

“Yeah. The coast guard.” Bucky laughed. “Can’t believe I forgot about the fucking _coast guard_.”

Steve straightened up and pressed a kiss to the back of Bucky’s head. “S’okay. I still love you.”

“Good.” Bucky twisted his face back to Steve, silently asking for a kiss which Steve readily gave. “Find somewhere for us to drop anchor yet?”

“Yeah, should be a cove two clicks up the coast. Keep tacking towards it.”

“Or, you could take over. You’ll get us there quicker.”

“Nah, you’ve got it.” Steve assured Bucky.

“Maybe I _want_ you to take the wheel, maybe I just want to sunbath for a bit.” Bucky pouted, lighting Steve up with affection.

“Well, if that’s what you _want_.” Steve took the wheel from him and Bucky – after a pressing a sloppy, lip smacking kiss to Steve’s cheek – slunk off to sprawl on the domed portion of the deck, keeping his head safely below the threatening arm of the boom. He was bare-chested, like Steve, and wearing only very short orange swimming trunks that barely skimmed the tops of his broad, tanned thighs. Neither of them had bothered to shave or trim their hair in the month they’d been sailing around the Mediterranean, and Bucky’s jaw was covered with soft dark scruff and his soft curls were growing out into thick, tufted waves swept back from his forehead. In short, he was beautiful, and the golden band that glinted on the fourth finger of his left hand only made him more-so.

They’d been married on a Brooklyn rooftop bar at sunset a month ago, surrounded their closest friends and family, and when Steve had slid that ring onto Bucky’s finger and promised to love him honestly, and earnestly for the rest of his days, Steve had been happier than he ever thought possible. The days that had followed since, sailing on clear blue waters, swimming off white sandy beaches, watching the sun rise and set from the deck of their yacht with Bucky cradled in his arms, Steve had grown happier still.

He’d almost been tempted to book the resort where they’d first met, thinking back to that couple who said they visited every year on their anniversary; but then Steve had remembered the ‘crowded’ beach, and how infinitely preferable it would be to have complete privacy for him to lavish (and ravish) Bucky on a private boat and deserted beaches. When Peggy had offered up a 60ft sailing yacht to them, free of charge, it seemed like the clear choice.

It had taken a while for things to return to an even kilter between Steve and Peggy, especially when she married Daniel a little over a year after she broke things off with Steve. But by then Steve was fully settled with Bucky – living together in their brownstone in Brooklyn, and somehow falling more and more in love with every passing day – and he realised he honestly no longer cared. Although Steve and Peggy were never quite going to be able to be friends, and things were always going to be a little awkward between them, they managed to at least be civil at mutual friend’s weddings and christenings, and Bucky was more than happy to borrow her family’s holiday homes and yachts when they weren’t in use.

Steve even stayed on friendly terms with Daniel, which he would never have foreseen – neither could he have predicted that Daniel and Bucky would strike up an unlikely friendship. Steve was never sure entirely what it was than Daniel did for a living, some form of scientific advisor to the alphabet agencies, but he and Bucky were forever sending scientific articles and weirdly specific space memes to each other. Daniel had even managed to get them an invitation from NASA to attend a launch from Cape Canaveral for Bucky’s birthday one year, and after that Steve couldn’t even pretend to dislike the man. It was clear to anyone and everyone that Daniel and Peggy were far better suited to each other, and since it had been their failed honeymoon that had brought Steve and Bucky together – Steve couldn’t even be mad at how things had gone down between him and Peg.

“I spy the cove!” Bucky shouted and gleefully pointed to a gap in the white, grass covered cliffs to their starboard side.

“Ready to jibe!” Steve shouted in response, giving Bucky warning to scramble off the raised part of the deck before Steve could bring the ship around and risk hitting him over the head with the swinging arm of the sail.

“Y’know, I’m still convinced you’re about to ask me to jive when you shout that.” Bucky laughed, he loosened the sheet and stepped back to stand safely behind Steve. 

“Maybe later.” Steve promised as he spun the wheel and turned their ship towards the cove.

“Aye, aye, Captain.” Bucky grinned and Steve could only laugh.

It took a few moments but the sail caught the wind and flipped, swinging the boom forcefully across the deck. When it had settled, Bucky hopped across to secure it on the other side, and then wobbled his way forwards to the prow of the yacht to watch their approach into the calm, clear waters of the cove. Steve switched the engine off and let them glide slowly past the sloping limestone cliffs. When he was satisfied they were in a good spot, not too close to the cliffs and not blocking the entrance of the bay, he shouted down the boat to Bucky and together they made quick work of dropping the anchor and hauling in the sails to park up safely for the night.

They’d moored up at towns and quays for some nights of their trip, going out for fancy dinners and stocking up on supplies, but most of the time they made use of the coves and bays where free anchoring was allowed and hooked on for a night of splendid isolation. So far, they’d only drifted once, when Steve misjudged the tide and they’d ended up stuck in soft mud for twelve hours until the tide came in again. Bucky had laughed at him for days after that.

“This really is paradise, isn’t it?” Bucky commented, looping an arm around Steve’s waist and pressing close against his side as they looked down at the sparkling blue waters that rocked gently beneath their feet. “Having all this to ourselves.”

“Yeah,” Steve glanced down at Bucky and pressed a kiss into his hair. “It really is.”

“Race you to that rock and back.” Bucky suddenly grinned. He threw his sunglasses down onto the bench in the cockpit and climbed up onto the railing, diving overboard before Steve had even thought about moving. Steve leant over the railing and watched Bucky surface and then roll onto his back, grinning up at Steve. “Come on in, the water’s lovely!” He called up. Steve let himself just watch for a moment, mesmerised by the sight of his husband swimming about in the waves. “Steve?”

“Yeah, I’m coming.” Steve lowered the ladder over the back of the boat and threw the inflatable lilo they’d tethered to the side the boat overboard, before shucking off his sunglasses and stepping up into the pushpit. He held on tight to the backstay for balance as he stared down into the inviting sea, watching the sunlight sparkle on the rolling peaks of the waves. Then he sucked in a breath and launched over the side, brining his arms overhead into a dive as he plunged hands-arms-head-first beneath the water. The world muffled immediately and bubbles cascaded around him as he sunk towards the sea bed, before he fought against momentum to swim up for air. He broke the surface with a gasp and shook his head to send water droplets flying out in all directions. The sea was refreshing after a long afternoon of sailing and Steve let himself sink under again, dragging a hand through his hair to wash out the sweat before he surfaced again.

“Race you!” Bucky stopped waiting for him and shot off under the water, surfacing far less often than seemed humanly possible as he swam towards the small cluster of rocks breaking the surface about 40 yards away. Steve gamely tried to keep up, but Bucky was already circling the rocks back towards him as Steve approached. Bucky flashed a grin and then span around in a slow circle with his head tipped back towards the sky before stretching out his legs and simply floating with his arms crossed behind his head.

“Show off.” Steve teased lovingly.

“You’re just jealous.” Bucky teased back.

They splashed around and floated for a bit (Bucky using his natural skill, whilst Steve sprawled across the lilo), before they headed to the shallows where they could stand knee deep in the surf and kiss as the waves rolled through them to crash up onto the shore.

Exhausted, and kiss drunk, and a little cold, they eventually retreated to the golden sand of the cove to stretch out and warm up in the sun. The sand clung to their damp skin and when Bucky rolled over to tan his back, Steve had to laugh at the amount that coated his shoulders and clung to his hair.

“You’ve got, just a little something.” Steve laughed, and tried to brush it off for him. Bucky didn’t seem to care though. By now they’d got used to finding sand in their hair no matter how many times they swam or showered, and Steve was pretty certain he’d still be finding sand in his jeans pockets a year from now.

“Oh, I forgot. Becca wanted to facetime later. Any idea when it’ll be six o’clock?” Bucky said, muffled against the forearm his face was resting on.

“Probably soon.”

Steve had stopped wearing a watch during the first week of their honeymoon, and most days his phone stayed buried below in the cabin. He’d yet to even read one work email, let alone think about answering one. Sam was doing a far better job of managing the DC office than Steve ever had; their sister companies in Chicago and Pasadena were running like well-oiled machines, and the woman – Maria Hill – he’d ended up bringing into to oversee things in New York was more than capable of handling things without Steve’s interference. Soon he hoped he might be able to step away from the company completely to focus more on his art, and the charities he’d given his name and profits to. Brandt kept pushing for more and more expansion, but Steve was already perfectly happy with everything he had.

“Maybe we should head back to the boat?” Steve suggested as he pushed himself to his feet.

“Mhmm. Yeah.” Bucky rolled back onto his back and sprawled star fish style for a minute before he accepted Steve’s outstretched hand to haul him up.

Most of the sand washed off as they swam back, but they both took a very quick rinse in the freshwater shower below deck to scrub the salt from their bodies. The only thing Steve disliked about the yacht was how small the showers were; there barely space for one person to stand upright in, let alone two. Steve let Bucky rinse off first and then stole a damp kiss as Bucky slipped by him, naked, in search of a towel and clothes.

Steve showered quickly, not wanting to waste their precious supply of fresh water (which would mean a night docked in a marina to replenish their supply when they ran out), and donned dry pair of swimming trunks so he didn’t have to both drying off properly. He slipped a loose white t-shirt over his head, which clung slightly to his damp shoulders, and ran a towel through his hair as he stepped out into the surprisingly spacious living area that took up the main bulk of the hull. The countertops separated a narrow galley kitchen from the dining table and long, sprawling sofa that took up the majority of space. 

Bucky was bustling around in the galley kitchen cutting up some apples when Steve emerged from the bedroom. His towel dried hair had fluffed in every direction and he hadn’t bothered to dress in anything more than boxers and Steve’s old rowing t-shirt which had become a favourite of Bucky’s and was now worn thin. Light fell through the widows set around the domed roof, bouncing off the polished cherry wood furnishings, and catching in the soft curls Bucky's hair.

“Coffee’s on.” Bucky smiled up at Steve.

There wasn’t really space in the galley for two either, but that didn’t stop Steve from sidling behind Bucky and wrapping his arms around him tight. He pressed a kiss against the juncture of Bucky’s shoulder and neck, and then another against the side of Bucky’s head. “Thanks.”

“Peanut butter’s in the cupboard behind you, can you pass it to me?”

“Sure.” Steve twisted an arm up behind him to grab a jar from the top shelf and watched Bucky scoop about half of it out into one of the fancy glass ramekins that had come with the yacht, and arrange the apple slices on a larger serving dish around it. “Very fancy.” Or at least it was, until Bucky stuck his finger right into the peanut butter and licked it clean. Steve tipped his head back and laughed, he should have expected nothing less.

“I told Becca we’d push the call to half past.”

“Why? What time is it now?”

Bucky just nodded towards the clock on the wall and Steve glanced it for the first time all day, realising with a jolt that it was already 6.17pm. Time did funny things when you weren’t paying attention to it.

“Take these up? I’ll grab the coffee.”

Steve pressed another kiss into Bucky’s hair and slipped back out of the galley to take the plate. Bucky stole another swipe of peanut butter as he did, Steve shook his head but made no comment; he knew by now that the apple slices were for show more than anything else.

He set the plate on the table in the cockpit and double checked their anchorage, making sure the boat wasn’t drifting too far. They’d spun slightly on the anchor, but it wasn’t anything to worry about. Steve settled onto the cushioned bench that encircled the cockpit like a horse shoe and looked out over the steering wheel to the aft of the ship. The boat gently rocked and swayed as the waves swelled beneath them, and every time it did the cables and lines of the sails clanged lightly against the mast with little clinks and soft clattering sounds. Gulls circled and occasionally screeched overhead, and there was the ever-present sloshing of water hitting the hull. It was truly and utterly peaceful. Steve didn’t know he’d ever ended up so lucky.

“Here you go, Mr Barnes-Rogers.” Bucky handed Steve his coffee.

“Thank you very much, Mr Barnes-Rogers.” Steve replied with a huge child-like grin. The thrill of their new surnames hadn’t yet worn off, Steve hoped it never would.

Instead of settling on the seat beside him, Bucky settled himself on the floor with his shoulders between Steve’s knees and propped his phone up on the table before them. Steve ducked his head down to rest on Bucky’s shoulder so they’d both be in frame for the call. It rang for a few beats and hovered on ‘connecting’ before the screen opened up and they were faced – not with Becca, but with Teddy, their two-year-old nephew.

“Nuncle Bucky! Nuncle Steeb!” The toddler grinned.

“Hey, kiddo.” Steve laughed whilst Bucky gushed over how much he’d grown in the month since they’d last seen him.

Teddy immediately launched into a ream of baby babble, only about half of which was intelligible; from what little Steve could gather, Teddy was excitedly giving them a recap of his day, which was surprisingly long considering it was only 11.30am in Indiana.

“Oh really? You had orange juice for breakfast?” Bucky asked, far more skilled at deciphering Teddy’s loosely strung together phrases of nonsense than Steve would ever be.

“Yea norange jus!” Teddy agreed with a grin. He was the absolute spit of Rob, but he had the unmistakable Barnes dimple in his chin, and – Steve may have been biased here – but he was the most adorable two-year-old on the planet.

“Baby, who are you talking to?” Becca’s voice came from off screen, and then her legs were in shot behind Teddy. “Is that..? How did you..?” She scooped Teddy (who took the phone with him) up into her arms and laughed when she saw Steve and Bucky. “Hey, guys. I had no idea he knew how to answer facetime.” She settled into the sofa and some camera movement suggested she took possession of the phone. “Rob! They’re on!” She shouted off to the side before turning back to give them a proper greeting. “Hi! How are you? How’s the boat? The weather looks nice.”

“Yeah, we’re great. Weather’s been gorgeous.” Bucky beamed.

Steve let Bucky and Becca catch up as they waited for Rob. He focused instead on making silly faces at Teddy who was bouncing on Becca’s lap and still trying to excitedly talk nonsense over her. Steve had no idea if it was normal for two-year olds to have as many words as Teddy did, or if Teddy was just exceptionally smart; he liked to think it was the latter.

“Hey guys, sorry.” Rob sounded breathless when he appeared in the frame, dropping onto the sofa beside Becca.

“So, what’s this big news?” Bucky asked eagerly. “I guess there must be a reason you wanted to call?”

Rob and Becca shared a look and the turned back to the camera with matching looks of excited delight.

“We’re expecting!” Becca announced. “Again.”

“Oh wow! That’s fantastic! Congratulations!” Steve gushed, whilst Bucky just grinned.

“I knew it.” He declared with a smirk. Which was news to Steve, he hadn’t suspected a thing.

“How?!” Becca asked.

“You didn’t touch a drop of champagne at our wedding.” Bucky shrugged with a smile. “But congratulations, guys, that’s amazing.”

“Well, we didn’t know for _sure_ then.” She grinned back. “We had the sonogram today. Do you wanna see the photo?”

“Yeah!” Bucky inched closer to the phone screen in anticipation and Steve found himself peering forwards too.

Steve squinted at the ultrasound photo Becca held up, unable to really make out anything more than grey blobs and lots of black squiggles; but Bucky was delighted by it.

“Can’t wait to meet them! You excited to be a big brother, Teddy? It’s the best job in the world, promise.” Bucky beamed.

Steve’s heart was almost fit to burst with love and affection. He hugged his arms tighter around Bucky’s shoulders and twisted his head to plant a kiss on Bucky’s cheek. They kept chatting, making plans to meet up when they got back, and agreed to spend Christmas in Shelbyville seeing as Becca wouldn’t be able to fly by then.

The sun light glinted off Bucky’s wedding ring as he gesticulated whilst he spoke, and his body was warm beneath Steve’s hands. Steve splayed his fingers across Bucky’s chest, feeling the gentle rise and fall as he breathed. This, this right here – Bucky, in his arms, Becca, Rob and Teddy, and a second nephew or niece that Steve couldn’t wait to meet – his _family, _was all the paradise Steve had ever wanted and all he would ever need.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Check back tomorrow (20th June) for Bucky's POV of the epilogue which will be the very final chapter. 
> 
> Thanks for sticking with this fic for so long! I'm definitely going to miss it when it's over.
> 
> 💙💙💙
> 
> =
> 
> [blacklivesmatters.carrd.co](https://blacklivesmatters.carrd.co/#) // [yemencrisis.carrd.co](https://yemencrisis.carrd.co/)


	46. Epilogue - Bucky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Epilogue, Part Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We've reached the end! 😭😭😭 I can't believe this fic is over, it's been an absolute joy to write and I've loved reading all of your comments. Without them I know I wouldn't have finished this story anywhere near as quickly as I have, so thank you! I hope you enjoy this final chapter and hope it makes a ftting end.  
💙💙💙💙

Bucky beamed, delighted with the news that Becca was expecting again. He’d suspected as much at the wedding when she, very uncharacteristically, stuck to the sparkling apple juice in favour of champagne. But he hadn’t said anything, hadn’t even teased her about it at all, knowing she’d tell them when she was ready. Teddy was already an absolute joy, and Bucky could wait to meet his second niece or nephew. He loved being an uncle, loved doting on Teddy completely, and loved how much Steve had taken to being an uncle too; not shying away from the title despite Teddy making an appearance just two years into their relationship. If he hadn’t been sure before, Bucky would have known then that Steve was committed to long term. 

After six months of living in Clint’s spare room and dating Steve in a far more conventional fashion, being wined and dined in Manhattan’s fanciest restaurants, visiting the Met and the MoMA, sharing picnics in prospect park, catching baseball games and movies together – plus Steve’s more outlandish ideas like the weekend trip up to Toronto to see Niagara Falls, the helicopter tour of New York, and the dinner cruise around the New York Harbour at sunset – Bucky had moved in. They’d had some arguments to start with, Steve didn’t like it when Bucky left the dishes stacked in the sink, or how Bucky tended to pile all of his clothes on a chair in the corner of the room rather than bothering to hang them all in the closet. Bucky didn’t particularly like the way Steve tidied everything away each night – including the books Bucky was part way through reading and had left on the coffee table for a _reason_, Steve – or how he both insisted on doing the grocery run and then complained about the specific types of ingredients Bucky asked him to buy. But at least they had the arguments, so they could settle on compromises without giving anything the chance of being blown out of proportion. And eventually, Bucky just found it endearing; especially when Steve started drawing little sketches and leaving little notes as impromptu bookmarks when he stacked Bucky’s books neatly on the corner of the coffee table so they didn’t have to lie around with their spines getting bent. 

It was true, what Steve had said – they brought out the best in each other. Bucky started to feel more like his old, confident self, and safe in the knowledge that Steve would support him, whatever he decided to do, Bucky started to re-evaluate his career; taking the time to actually decide what he wanted to do with his life, something he hadn’t been able to do since his father had died. He’d only ever joined the army because he needed money, quickly, to help support his mom and Becca, and after his injury Bucky had gone to the army career’s service armed only with two fundamental wishes: he wanted to help people; and he wanted to get his degree as quickly as possible, in something that would guarantee him a job. In hindsight, it should have been obvious that the army would try and push him into law enforcement, and though he liked working with WitSec well enough, liked it when it felt like he was actually helping people find a second chance – his true passion had always been science. Talking to Daniel, and that amazing trip he and Steve had taken to NASA to watch a launch, had reignited that old spark inside Bucky. He’d always, _always_, loved the stars, and space, and figuring out how the universe worked. 

“You should do whatever you want to do, Bucky. I’ll support you, one hundred percent.” Steve had assured Bucky when he mentioned the idea of going back to school, and funding an astrophysics degree from NYU seemed like a perfect way to spend some of those digits in Steve’s bank balance that were burning a hole in his conscience. Bucky had no idea what he wanted to do with his degree when he graduated, lately he’d been swaying towards the idea of teaching, hoping that maybe he could stop some kids from making the same mistakes he had. But Steve assured him it didn’t matter if he didn’t know; he could take as long as he needed to figure that out. Bucky loved Steve for that. He loved him for a lot of things. He hadn’t thought it was possible that he could love Steve _more_, but he found ways, with every passing day.

Bucky had known when he moved in that he was ready to marry Steve, but after what had happened with Peggy he wasn’t sure if Steve would ever want to make that kind of commitment again, so he’d kept his hopes guarded. Afterall, everything was already so perfect between them, what more could he ask for? So, when Steve popped the question on Bucky’s birthday, almost four years after they’d met at the resort, Bucky was surprised, and overjoyed. They wasted no time planning the wedding, eventually finding a perfect rooftop bar in Brooklyn that looked out over the east river. They danced the night away under a sparkling canopy of fairy lights and vined flowers that wrapped around the wooden struts stretching across the terrace; surrounded by their friends and family, each knowing that their parents were looking down on them with pride. 

Steve had offered to plan the honeymoon, saying he wanted to keep it a surprise, which Bucky was happy to allow – knowing from experience that Steve would plan something perfect for them – and he certainly didn’t disappoint. They’d flown to Monaco first, and spent the night in a ridiculous hotel that Bucky didn’t want to think about how much it had cost (there’d been a private swimming pool on the balcony for crying out loud), but then Steve had unveiled the yacht. Sixty-foot long, with a main sail and a jib, a cushioned lounge area by the cockpit and plenty of space to sprawl and sunbathe on the rest of the deck; and the best thing was, they had it all to themselves for a whole month. Steve had been apprehensive about being away from his business for that long at the start of the holiday, but Bucky hadn’t actually seen him use his phone for anything other than taking photos or googling restaurants. He’d even stopped wearing his watch.

They spent the first few days with Steve showing Bucky the basics of sailing, including how to handle the sails and _sheets_, not ropes apparently (sometimes Bucky still laughed at all the innuendos there were involved with sailing), and then they took off towards Italy, sailing through the Tyrrhenian Sea, the Ionian Sea, and then around all the tiny island that made up the Aegean Sea; passing places Bucky had only heard of in the tales from Greek mythology. As Steve stood shirtless at the helm, with blonde hair shining brighter than the sun, his caramel coloured beard clinging to his jaw, broad shoulders and sculpted muscles slicked with sweat, he definitely looked like he belonged to a Greek myth; but unlike the ancient heroes and gods whose history was soaked into the seas they sailed upon, Bucky knew for certain he and Steve were destined for a happy ending. 

“Mhmm.” Bucky ended the call and let his head fall against Steve’s thigh, bringing his hands up to clutch at Steve’s arms that were still wrapped around his shoulders. “I’m happy for them.”

“Me too.” 

They sat for a moment, basking the contented bliss of each other’s company, before Bucky pocketed his phone and scooted up from the floor to curl up next to Steve on the soft cushioned sofa. Steve twisted backwards so he was sitting along one of the long sides of the horse shoe shape and opened up his legs to accommodate Bucky sitting between them. Bucky settled the plate of apple slices and peanut butter in his lap and they ate through them, sipping coffee, and just watching the sea sparkle in front of them. The sky was still a clear bright blue, Bucky knew it wouldn’t even begin to get dark for a few hours yet, and even then, the twilight would stretch on well into the night. The nights they spent free anchored in quiet coves had been undoubtedly the best; curled up against each other, watching the stars wheel overhead, and eventually moving below deck to fall asleep in the large double bed in their cabin. 

“Thank you.” Bucky settled further against Steve, delighting in the feel of Steve’s solid torso against his back.

“For what?”

“For this. For everything. I don’t ever want to go home.”

“That’s not true.”

Bucky considered how much he loved their home in Brooklyn, how much he’d miss Becca and Teddy if they never actually went home. “Okay, fine. But this has been lovely. We should do it again next year, and maybe we could sail around the Caribbean instead. Or Indonesia. Oh, or Norway.” Bucky suggested, each idea seeming even more appealing as it crossed his mind. “Imagine sailing out under the northern lights.”

“Sounds cold.” Steve laughed, gently shaking Bucky as vibrations from his laugh rumbled deep in his chest. 

“Then we’d wrap up warm.” 

Steve wrapped his arms tighter around Bucky and hugged him close. “I guess we could do that. We can go anywhere you want. We’ve got time.”

And wasn’t that the best thing of all? They finally had time; decades stretching on before them. The countdown may have been looming for the end of _this_ holiday, but there would be other holidays after that, and after that, forever and ever until the end of their days; which Bucky hoped would be a long way off in their future. He knew, and Steve did too, that you couldn’t always bank on those years, they’d both had people taken from them far too soon, but they’d both vowed to make the most of every moment they had together, not leaving any more room for regrets. 

Bucky shoved the plate back onto the table and twisted around (with only a minor elbow jab that pulled a soft “oof” from Steve) so that he was straddling Steve on the bench. 

“Anywhere I want?” He asked.

“Anywhere.” Steve brushed Bucky’s hair back from his forehead and smiled up at him. 

“I like the sound of that.”

“So do I.”

Steve arched up to kiss Bucky and Bucky reached out to cup Steve’s face, holding onto him tight. Steve’s beard tickled against his, and his lips were slightly chapped from their exposure to the wind and sun, but the kiss still felt divine. Bucky knelt up for a better angle, pressing their bodies flush and drinking up every ounce of Steve, of his _husband_. He was never going to get over how wonderful it felt to be kissed by Steve, to have him nip gently on his lower lip and then sweep into his mouth with a pressure and motion that sent tingles running down Bucky’s spine. Steve’s hand slipped round Bucky’s hips to palm at his ass as he rocked up against Bucky sparking arousal in them both. Fortunately, Steve’s fear of exhibitionism was well and truly a thing of the past, and though they never got _too_ handsy if any other ships were in sight, they were currently the only boat for miles around. So what if they’d started keeping lube along with the sunscreen and water bottles stored in the box in the cockpit? They were on their honeymoon, it was to be expected. 

Steve reached for it now, and Bucky shucked Steve’s rowing shirt off before it could get wrecked, bundling it safely onto the opposite bench and quickly losing his boxer shorts too. They’d sailed past plenty of European nudist beaches, and both of them had spent half the time sunbathing naked, so the novelty of straddling Steve completely in the nude with his back and ass to the sun had worn off. It didn’t take long for Steve to lose his shirt and shorts as well, and soon Bucky was scraping his hands across Steve’s pecs as Steve slowly open him up; following the light scratches his fingers made on Steve’s chest with soft kisses and little laps of his tongue. Bucky hummed and moaned into Steve’s collarbones and when Steve shifted, angling them so he could push in with a confident, well aimed thrust, Bucky threw his head back, arching his spine and letting out a gasp of pleasure. They moved as one, using the natural rocking of the boat to their advantage, until their pleasure crested and Bucky came with a strangled moan and a string of incoherent exclamations mouthed directly against Steve’s neck. Steve followed him over the edge immediately and captured Bucky’s mouth with his, kissing long and hard until their lips were swollen and they were both completely breathless. Bucky collapsed against Steve’s chest, feeling spent, content, and so blissed out that the word almost felt inadequate to describe his joy. 

Afterwards, when either of them could summon the energy and the inclination to move, Bucky headed back to the shower for another quick rinse whilst Steve made a start on cooking dinner. They bundled into warmer clothes as the sun began to set, and ate dinner on deck, splitting a bottle of wine and watching the sun set the sky on fire as it sunk into the sea. Wisps of clouds turned pink and gold against the slowly darkening sky. Then, one by one to start with, followed by a sudden rush like someone had flipped a switch, the stars began to appear. With no light for miles around the stars were vibrant and striking, and the silvery light of the moon left a trail that danced and glinted on the waves. 

The water sloshed against the hull and the gentle clanking of the sheets against the mast was soothing in a hypnotic, rhythmic way. Bucky curled close against Steve and preened when he felt Steve’s hand curl up behind his head and start to card softly through his hair. 

“I love you.” Bucky said. 

“I love you too.” 

Steve pressed a kiss into Bucky’s hair causing warmth to spread through him from the top of his head right down to his toes. His heart was full, and he felt happier than he ever thought he could possibly be. He’d found his paradise indeed. 

  


** _~The End~_ **

  


  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's all folks! I hope you liked it 😊😊😊 I've absolutely loved writing it and I'm going to miss getting to share the updates with you all and reading all of your lovely comments. I won't promise to add more to this in the future because I think I've tied it off nicely, but if I do ever get struck with inspiration, I won't rule out a few more 'slice of life' updates that check-in on them further down the line...
> 
> In the meantime, I'm working on a few more fics that will hopefully start posting in the not too distant future, so look out for those - and I'm always open to taking fic requests / suggestions, so if there's anything you'd really love to see, come and find me on tumblr / twitter to let me know! 😊
> 
> If you read and liked it, please leave a comment because they seriously mean the world to me.
> 
> Thanks again!  
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**Author's Note:**

> Comments are always appreciated :)
> 
> Come find me on [Tumblr](http://trenchcoatsandtimetravel.tumblr.com) or [Twitter](https://twitter.com/astrobucky) and talk headcanons.


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